THE 

COMPLETE  WORKS  OF  NATHANIEL 

HAWTHORNE,  WITH  INTRODUCTORY 

NOTES  BY  GEORGE  PARSONS 

LATHROP 

AND   ILLUSTRATED  WITH 

Etchings  by  Blum,  Church,  Dielman,  Gifford,  Skirlaw, 
and  Turner 

IN   THIRTEEN  VOLUMES 
VOLUME  IX. 


PASSAGES    FROM 
THE   AMERICAN    NOTE-BOOKS 


OF 


NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

iDc  prcsj*  CambnbQC 


COPYRIGHT,   IS6S,   BY  SOPHIA   HAWTHORNE 

COPYRIGHT,    lS$3,     BY   HOUGHTON,   MIFFLIN   &    CO. 

COPYRIGHT,    1896  AND   1910,   BY   ROSE   HAWTHORNE    LATHROP 

ALL   RIGHTS  RESERVED 


.::'•. 

e  °  **        *-,"   j  •   "    ' 

.*'•   ^    .       o^,.,  ;,,.,..    ;     , 

INTRODUCTORY    NOTE. 

AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS. 

AFTER  the  death  of  Hawthorne,  the  desire  for  a 
biography  was  so  strongly  expressed,  both  among  his 
friends  and  by  the  public  at  large,  that  his  widow  was 
prompted  to  supply  in  part  the  information  of  which 
there  was  obviously  much  need.  As  she  has  explained 
in  her  Preface  to  the  "  English  Note-Books,"  Haw 
thorne's  own  wish  was  that  no  one  should  attempt  to 
write  his  life.  Lapsing  time  and  the  perspective  im 
parted  by  the  world's  settled  estimate  of  his  genius 
have  shown  that  no  final  restriction  ought  to  be  im 
posed  on  the  natural  instinct  and  right  of  students 
and  sincere  admirers  to  seek  a  more  personal  knowl 
edge  of  the  author  than  his  imaginative  writings  could 
yield.  His  preference,  respecting  the  publication  of 
a  biography,  was  not,  indeed,  an  absolute  injunction ; 
but  it  is  not  strange  that  Mrs.  Hawthorne  should 
have  chosen  to  conform  to  it.  In  default,  then,  of  the 
life  which  she  was  unwilling  to  countenance  or  under 
take,  she  resolved  to  offer  these  extracts  from  his 
memorandum-books  or  diaries,  supplemented  by  por 
tions  of  his  letters.  They  were  designed  to  present 
some  suggestion  of  his  mode  of  life  and  mental  habit, 
and  to  counteract  a  false  impression  of  his  personality 
Which  the  sombre  tone  of  his  fictions  had  spread 
abroad. 


6  INTRODUCTORY  NOTE. 

The  passages  relating  to  his  American  life  having 
beec  well  received,  and  as  it  was  necessary,  in  order 
to  complete  an  uutJme  of  the  later  career,  that  his 
European  experience  should  be  presented  through  a 
similar  medium,  the  "  English  Note-Books "  and  the 
44  French  and  Italian  Note-Books  "  were  published  in 
1870  and  1871,  respectively. 

It  has  been  remarked  by  a  recent  writer,  in  a  light 
monograph  on  Hawthorne,  that  the  Note-Books  read 
like  a  series  of  rather  dull  letters,  written  by  the  ro 
mancer  to  himself,  during  a  term  of  years.  Whatever 
degree  of  acumen  this  remark  may  indicate  in  the 
maker,  it  shows  clearly  that  he  has  left  out  of  account 
(if  he  took  pains  to  examine  at  all)  the  manner  in 
which  the  notes  came  into  existence  and  the  circum 
stances  of  their  publication.  When  Hawthorne  was 
about  twelve  years  of  age,  it  is  supposed  that  a  blank 
volume  was  given  him  by  one  of  his  uncles,  "  with 
the  advice  "  — so  runs  an  inscription  purporting  to 
have  been  copied  from  the  first  leaf  of  this  book  — 
44  to  write  out  his  thoughts,  some  every  day,  in  as  good 
words  as  he  can,  upon  any  and  all  subjects,  as  it  is 
one  of  the  best  means  of  his  securing  for  mature  years 
command  of  thought  and  language."  l  The  habit  of 
keeping  a  journal  as  an  exercise,  and  of  describing  or 
dinary  occurrences  day  by  day,  with  the  impression 
made  upon  him  by  them,  was  thus  formed  very  early 
in  life,  and  partially  accounts  for  the  ease  and  preci 
sion  of  his  language  in  the  Note-Books  now  included 
among  his  published  works.  This  circumstance  will 
also  explain  how  it  became  a  second  nature  with  the 

*  For  particulars  concerning  this  boyish  Note-Book,  with  extracts 
it,  the   reader  is   referred  to  A  Study  of  Hawthorne,  III.,  8a 
-so  Appendix  I.  of  that  volume. 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE.  7 

author,  even  in  maturer  years,  to  confide  his  daily  oh 
servations  to  the  pages  of  some  private  register,  and 
often  to  enter  there  details  which,  to  the  careless 
glance,  appear  unaccountably  slight.  In  the  first  half 
of  this  century,  the  custom  of  keeping  regular  diaries 
and  voluminous  journals  was  much  more  general  than 
at  the  present  day,  owing  to  the  greater  leisureliness 
of  life  at  that  time.  People  recorded  in  them,  as  those 
do  who  still  maintain  the  custom,  the  smallest  transac 
tions  of  each  twenty-four  hours  ;  and  Hawthorne  him 
self,  during  some  years,  wrote  similar  memoranda  in 
pocket-books,  which  allowed  only  a  brief  space  to  each 
day.  The  manuscript  books  from  which  the  published 
passages  have  been  taken  were  not  of  that  sort,  but 
were  evidently  used  as  media  for  the  preservation  of 
passing  impressions,  which  might  or  might  not  prove 
subsequently  valuable  for  reference,  in  composition. 
Frequently  the  purpose  of  an  entry  may  have  been 
merely  to  deepen,  by  the  act  of  writing,  some  fleeting 
association  of  a  sight  or  sound  with  an  inward  train  of 
thought  which  does  not  appear  in  the  written  words  at 
all ;  as  in  that  sentence,  which  has  been  cited  as  an  evi 
dence  of  mental  vacancy,  "  The  smell  of  peat-smoke 
in  the  autumnal  air  is  very  pleasant."  The  "  Ameri 
can  Note-Books,"  in  fine,  should  be  taken  for  precisely 
what  they  are,  and  no  more ;  that  is,  repositories  of 
the  most  informal  kind,  for  such  fragments  of  obser 
vation  and  reflection  as  the  writer  chose  to  commit  to 
them  for  his  own  purposes ;  as  the  results,  too,  of  an 
early-formed  taste  for  exercising  his  pen  upon  the  sim 
plest  objects  of  notice  that  surrounded  him.  Bearing 
in  mind  the  vogue  of  journal-writing  at  that  period, 
we  shall  not  find  it  surprising  if  items  occur  which  do 
aot  possess  universal  interest,  but  seem  to  have  found 


8  INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

a  place  through  the  inertia  of  a  long-established  habit 
of  making  notes.  Living  for  many  years  in  a  solitary 
way,  and  always  invested  with  a  peculiar  sensitive  and 
shy  reserve,  Hawthorne  would  sometimes  naturally  let 
fall  from  the  point  of  his  pen,  in  the  companionship 
of  his  journal,  passing  remarks  which  another  person 
would  have  made  in  conversation ;  no  permanent  im 
portance  being  attached  to  them  in  either  case. 

From  their  character  and  origin,  it  is  impossible 
that  the  Note-Books  should  furnish  a  complete  picture 
of  Hawthorne's  mind  and  qualities,  though  they  con 
vey  hints  of  them.  The  records  themselves  were  scat 
tered  through  books  of  various  sizes,  sometimes  only 
half -filled  and  sometimes  labelled  "  Scrap  -  Book." 
Probably  the  idea  that  they  would  be  presented  in 
print  to  the  public  never  even  occurred  to  the  writer. 
Nor  is  the  absence  of  the  author's  opinions  on  literary 
matters  at  all  extraordinary.  Surprise  has  been  ex 
pressed  that  the  fact  of  his  reading  a  volume  of  Ra 
belais  should  be  mentioned,  without  any  accompany 
ing  disquisition  touching  Rabelais.  It  was  no  part  of 
Hawthorne's  aim  as  an  author  to  analyze  other  au 
thors  ;  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  he  greatly  cared  to 
form  elaborate  critical  estimates  of  them,  although  it 
is  manifest  enough  from  his  remarks  on  his  own  work, 
in  his  prefaces,  that  he  could  characterize  and  discuss 
literary  art  with  fine  penetration.  His  judgment  of 
Anthony  Trollope,  given  in  a  published  letter,  also  ex 
hibits  his  keen  appreciation  of  a  widely  different  kind 
of  work.  But  even  had  he  chosen  to  make  such  esti 
mates,  he  would  not  have  incorporated  them  in  a  jour 
nal  kept  for  an  entirely  different  purpose  ;  a  journal 
which  obviously  cannot  be  assumed  with  any  justice  to 
mirror  his  whole  intellectual  life.  So  that,  while  the 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE.  9 

*  American  Note-Books  "  contain  many  traces  of  his 
personality,  throw  some  light  on  his  habit  of  observ 
ing  common  things,  and  intimate  the  outward  condi 
tions  of  his  modest  course  of  living,  they  contain  few 
of  those  deep  reflections  which  come  to  light  in  his 
works  of  imagination ;  and  they  must  not  be  looked  to 
for  a  revelation  of  the  entire  man.  In  basing  opinions 
upon  them,  it  is  well  to  remember,  and  apply  in  this 
case  also,  what  Hawthorne  once  said  in  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Fields  :  — 

"  An  old  Quaker  wrote  me,  the  other  day,  that  he 
had  been  reading  my  Introduction  to  the  '  Mosses ' 
and  the  4  Scarlet  Letter,'  and  felt  as  if  he  knew  me 
better  than  his  best  friend ;  but  I  think  he  consider 
ably  overestimates  the  extent  of  his  intimacy  with 
me:9 

The  finish  and  deliberation  of  the  style  in  these 
fragmentary  chronicles,  fitly  known  under  the  name  of 
Note-Books,  are  very  likely  to  mislead  any  one  who 
does  not  constantly  recall  the  fa*3t  that  they  were  writ 
ten  currente  calamo,  and  merely  as  superficial  memo 
randa,  beneath  which  lay  the  author's  deeper  medita 
tion,  always  reserved  in  essence  until  he  was  ready  to 
precipitate  it  in  the  plastic  forms  of  fiction.  Speak 
ing  of  "  Our  Old  Home,"  which  —  charming  though 
it  be  to  the  reader  —  was  drawn  almost  wholly  from 
the  surface  deposit  of  his  "  English  Note-Books," 
Hawthorne  said  :  "  It  is  neither  a  good  nor  a  weighty 
book."  And  this,  indirectly,  shows  that  he  did  not 
regard  the  journals  as  concentrating  the  profounder 
substance  of  his  genius. 

The  series  of  passages  from  the  "  American  Note- 
Books  "  covers  the  space  of  eighteen  years,  almost  to  a 
day;  the  extracts  running  from  June  15,  1835,  to 


10  INTRODUCTORY  NOTE. 

June  9,  1853  ;  and  in  a  detached  way  it  presents 
the  main  part  of  Hawthorne's  career  throughout  the 
period  of  his  rise  from  obscurity  to  fame,,  purely  as  a 
growth  of  American  soil  and  conditions,  before  he  had 
lever  set  foot  in  Europe. 

Doubt  has  been  thrown  upon  the  correctness  of  one 
date  in  the  printed  volume,  that  of  September  7, 1835 

describing  "  A  drive  to  Ipswich  with  B ."     The 

person  referred  to  as  "  B "  is  still  living,  and  did 

not  become  acquainted  with  Hawthorne  until  1845,  — - 
ten  years  later  than  the  date  of  the  entry  in  question. 
It  is  possible  that  an  error  of  transcription  may  have 
occurred,  owing  to  indistinctness  of  chirography  or  the 
confused  manner  of  keeping  these  early  Note-Books  ; 
but  in  the  main  the  chronology  may  be  relied  upon  as 
accurate.  Two  other  passages  require  a  brief  expla 
nation.  Under  date  of  August  31,  1836,  is  printed 
the  sentence  :  "  In  this  dismal  chamber  FAME  was 
won.'7  (Salem,  Union  Street.)  Again,  one  reads : 
"  Salem,  Oct.  4th,  Union  Street  [Family  Mansion}. 
— ...  Here  I  sit  in  my  old  accustomed  chamber.  .  .  . 
Here  I  have  written  my  tales,"  etc.  The  reference  in 
both  instances  is  to  Herbert  Street,  Salem  ;  and  the 
simple  explanation  of  another  street-name  being  sub 
stituted  is  as  follows.  Hawthorne  was  born  in  a  house 
on  Union  Street,  Salem.  After  the  death  of  his  fa 
ther,  a  ship-captain,  at  Surinam,  in  1808,  his  mother 
removed  "  to  the  house  of  her  father  in  Herbert  Street, 
the  next  one  eastward  from  Union.  The  land  belong, 
ing  to  this  ran  through  to  Union  Street,  adjoining  the 
house  they  had  left ;  and  from  his  top-floor  study  here, 
in  later  years,  Hawthorne  could  look  down  on  the  less 
lofty  roof  under  which  he  was  born.  The  Herbert 
Street  house,  however,  was  spoken  of  as  being  on 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE.  1> 

Union  Street."  1  Hence,  in  the  two  passages  above 
cited,  "  Herbert  Street  "  should  be  put  in  the  place  of 
"  Union  Street,"  if  it  be  desired  to  identify  the  exact 
locality.  Hawthorne  wrote  his  first  stories  in  the  Her 
bert  Street  house ;  but  that  house,  the  family  man 
sion  (now,  through  the  indifference  of  his  townsmen, 
become  a  tenement-house),  was  always  referred  to  by 
members  of  the  family  as  being  on  Union  Street. 

Here  and  there  passages  of  the  original  record  have 
been  omitted  in  the  Note-Books  as  published  by  Mrs. 
Hawthorne;  but  the  most  vital  and  significant  por 
tions  are  retained  in  the  printed  version ;  and  these, 
in  the  collected  works,  are  all  that  will  be  given  to 
the  public. 

G.  P.  L. 

1  A  Study  of  Hawthorne,  III.,  62,  63. 


PASSAGES  FROM  HAWTHORNE'S 

AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS. 


SALEM,  June  15,  1835.  —  A  walk  down  to  the 
Juniper.  The  shore  of  the  coves  strewn  with  bunches 
of  sea-weed,  driven  in  by  recent  winds.  Eel-grass, 
rolled  and  bundled  up,  and  entangled  with  it,  —  large 
marine  vegetables,  of  an  olive-color,  with  round,  slen 
der,  snake-like  stalks,  four  or  five  feet  long,  and  nearly 
fcwo  feet  broad :  these  are  the  herbage  of  the  deep  sea. 
Shoals  of  fishes,  at  a  little  distance  from  the  shore, 
discernible  by  their  fins  out  of  water.  Among  the 
heaps  of  sea-weed  there  were  sometimes  small  pieces 
of  painted  wood,  bark,  and  other  driftage,  On  the 
shore,  with  pebbles  of  granite,  there  were  round  or 
oval  pieces  of  brick,  which  the  waves  had  rolled  about 
till  they  resembled  a  natural  mineral.  Huge  stones 
tossed  about,  in  every  variety  of  confusion,  some  shag 
ged  all  over  with  sea-weed,  others  only  partly  covered, 
others  bare.  The  old  ten-gun  battery,  at  the  outer 
angle  of  the  Juniper,  very  verdant,  and  besprinkled 
with  white-weed,  clover,  and  buttercups.  The  juni 
per-trees  are  very  aged  and  decayed  and  moss-grown. 
The  grass  about  the  hospital  is  rank,  being  trodden, 
probably,  by  nobody  but  myself.  There  is  a  represen 
tation  of  a  vessel  under  sail,  cut  with  a  penknife,  on 
the  corner  of  the  house. 


14  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1835. 

Returning  by  the  almshouse,  I  stopped  a  good  while 
to  look  at  the  pigs,  —  a  great  herd,  —  who  seemed  to 
be  just  finishing  their  suppers.  They  certainly  are 
types  of  unmitigated  sensuality,  —  some  standing  in 
the  trough,  in  the  midst  of  their  own  and  others'  vict 
uals,  —  some  thrusting  their  noses  deep  into  the  food, 
1 —  some  rubbing  their  backs  against  a  post,  —  some 
huddled  together  between  sleeping  and  waking,  breath 
ing  hard,  —  all  wallowing  about ;  a  great  boar  swag 
gering  round,  and  a  big  sow  waddling  along  with  her 
huge  paunch.  Notwithstanding  the  unspeakable  de 
filement  with  which  these  strange  sensualists  spice  all 
their  food,  they  seem  to  have  a  quick  and  delicate 
sense  of  smell.  What  ridiculous  -  looking  animals ! 
Swift  himself  could  not  have  imagined  anything  nas 
tier  than  what  they  practise  by  the  mere  impulse  of 
natural  genius.  Yet  the  Shakers  keep  their  pigs  very 
clean,  and  with  great  advantage.  The  legion  of  dev 
ils  in  the  herd  of  swine,  —  what  a  scene  it  must  have 
been! 

Sunday  evening,  going  by  the  jail,  the  setting  sun 
kindled  up  the  windows  most  cheerfully  ;  as  if  there 
were  a  bright,  comfortable  light  within  its  darksome 
stone  wall. 

June  USth.  —  A  walk  in  North  Salem  in  the  decline 
of  yesterday  afternoon,  —  beautiful  weather,  bright, 
sunny,  with  a  western  or  northwestern  wind  just  cool 
enough,  and  a  slight  superfluity  of  heat.  The  ver 
dure,  both  of  trees  and  grass,  is  now  in  its  prime,  the 
leaves  elastic,  all  life.  The  grass-fields  are  plenteously 
bestrewn  with  white-weed,  large  spaces  looking  as  white 
as  a  sheet  of  snow,  at  a  distance,  yet  with  an  indescrib 
ably  warmer  tinge  than  snow,  —  living  white,  inter- 


J835.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  15 

mixed  with  living  green.  The  hills  and  hollows  be 
yond  the  Cold  Spring  copiously  shaded,  principally 
with  oaks  of  good  growth,  and  some  walnut-trees,  with 
the  rich  sun  brightening  in  the  midst  of  the  open 
spaces,  and  mellowing  and  fading  into  the  shade,  — 
and  single  trees,  with  their  cool  spot  of  shade,  in  the 
waste  of  sun :  quite  a  picture  of  beauty,  gently  pict 
uresque.  The  surface  of  the  land  is  so  varied,  with 
woodland  mingled,  that  the  eye  cannot  reach  far  away, 
except  now  and  then  in  vistas  perhaps  across  the  river, 
showing  houses,  or  a  church  and  surrounding  village, 
in  Upper  Beverly.  In  one  of  the  sunny  bits  of  pas 
ture,  walled  irregularly  in  with  oak-shade,  I  saw  a 
gray  mare  feeding,  and,  as  I  drew  near,  a  colt  sprang 
up  from  amid  the  grass,  —  a  very  small  colt.  He 
looked  me  in  the  face,  and  I  tried  to  startle  him,  so  as 
to  make  him  gallop ;  but  he  stretched  his  long  legs, 
one  after  another,  walked  quietly  to  his  mother,  and 
began  to  suck,  —  just  wetting  his  lips,  not  being  very 
hungry.  Then  he  rubbed  his  head,  alternately,  with 
each  hind  leg.  He  was  a  graceful  little  beast. 

I  bathed  in  the  cove,  overhung  with  maples  and  wal 
nuts,  the  water  cool  and  thrilling.  At  a  distance  it 
sparkled  bright  and  blue  in  the  breeze  and  sun.  There 
were  jelly-fish  swimming  about,  and  several  left  to  melt 
away  on  the  shore.  On  the  shore,  sprouting  amongst 
the  sand  and  gravel,  I  found  samphire,  growing  some 
what  like  asparagus.  It  is  an  excellent  salad  at  this 
season,  salt,  yet  with  an  herb-like  vivacity,  and  very 
tender.  I  strolled  slowly  through  the  pastures,  watch 
ing  my  long  shadow  making  grave,  fantastic  gestures 
in  the  sun.  It  is  a  pretty  sight  to  see  the  sunshine 
brightening  the  entrance  of  a  road  which  shortly  be 
comes  deeply  overshadowed  by  trees  on  both  sides. 


16  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1835. 

At  the  Cold  Spring,  three  little  girls,  from  six  to 
nine,  were  seated  on  the  stones  in  which  the  fountain 
is  set,  and  paddling  in  the  water.  It  was  a  pretty  pic 
ture,  and  would  have  been  prettier,  if  they  had  shown 
bare  little  legs,  instead  of  pantalets.  Very  large  trees 
overhung  them,  and  the  sun  was  so  nearly  gone  down 
that  a  pleasant  gloom  made  the  spot  sombre,  in  con 
trast  with  these  light  and  laughing  little  figures.  On 
perceiving  me,  they  rose  up,  tittering  among  them 
selves.  It  seemed  that  there  was  a  sort  of  playful 
malice  in  those  who  first  saw  me ;  for  they  allowed  the 
other  to  keep  on  paddling,  without  warning  her  of  my 
approach.  I  passed  along,  and  heard  them  come 
chattering  behind. 

June  22d.  —  I  rode  to  Boston  in  the  afternoon  with 
Mr.  Proctor.  It  was  a  coolish  day,  with  clouds  and 
intermitting  sunshine,  and  a  pretty  fresh  breeze.  We 
stopped  about  an  hour  at  the  Maverick  House,  in  the 
sprouting  branch  of  the  city,  at  East  Boston,  —  a  styl 
ish  house,  with  doors  painted  in  imitation  of  oak ;  a 
large  bar ;  bells  ringing ;  the  bar-keeper  calls  out,  when 
a  bell  rings,  "Number — " ;  then  a  waiter  replies, 
"  Number  —  answered  "  ;  and  scampers  up  stairs.  A 
ticket  is  given  by  the  hostler,  on  taking  the  horse  and 
chaise,  which  is  returned  to  the  bar  -  keeper  when 
the  chaise  is  wanted.  The  landlord  was  fashionably 
dressed,  with  the  whitest  of  linen,  neatly  plaited,  and 
as  courteous  as  a  Lord  Chamberlain.  Visitors  from 
Boston  thronging  the  house,  —  some  standing  at  the 
bar,  watching  the  process  of  preparing  tumblers  of 
punch,  —  others  sitting  at  the  windows  of  different 
parlors,  —  some  with  faces  flushed,  puffing  cigars. 
The  bill  of  fare  for  the  day  was  stuck  up  beside  the 


1835.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  11 

bar.  Opposite  this  principal  hotel  there  was  another, 
called  "  The  Mechanics,"  which  seemed  to  be  equally 
thronged.  I  suspect  that  the  company  were  about  on 
a  par  in  each ;  for  at  the  Maverick  House,  though 
well  dressed,  they  seemed  to  be  merely  Sunday  gentle 
men,  —  mostly  young  fellows,  —  clerks  in  dry-goods 
stores  being  the  aristocracy  of  them.  One,  very  fash 
ionable  in  appearance,  with  a  handsome  cane,  happened 
to  stop  by  me  and  lift  up  his  foot,  and  I  noticed  that 
the  sole  of  his  boot  (which  was  exquisitely  polished) 
was  all  worn  out.  I  apprehend  that  some  such  minor 
deficiencies  might  have  been  detected  in  the  general 
showiness  of  most  of  them.  There  were  girls,  too,  but 
not  pretty  ones,  nor,  on  the  whole,  such  good  imita 
tions  of  gentility  as  the  young  men.  There  were  as 
many  people  as  are  usually  collected  at  a  muster,  or  on 
similar  occasions,  lounging  about,  without  any  appar 
ent  enjoyment ;  but  the  observation  of  this  may  serve 
me  to  make  a  sketch  of  the  mode  of  spending  the  Sab 
bath  by  the  majority  of  unmarried,  young,  middling- 
class  people,  near  a  great  town.  Most  of  the  people 
had  smart  calies  and  bosom-pins. 

Crossing  the  ferry  into  Boston,  we  went  to  the  City 
Tavern,  where  the  bar-room  presented  a  Sabbath  scene 
of  repose,  —  stage-folk  lounging  in  chairs  half  asleep, 
smoking  cigars,  generally  with  clean  linen  and  other 
niceties  of  apparel,  to  mark  the  day.  The  doors  and 
blinds  of  an  oyster  and  refreshment  shop  across  the 
street  were  closed,  but  I  saw  people  enter  it.  There 
were  two  owls  in  a  back  court,  visible  through  a  win 
dow  of  the  bar-ioom,  —  speckled  gray,  with  dark-blue 
eyes,  —  the  queerest  -  looking  birds  that  exist,  —  so 
solemn  and  wise,  —  dozing  away  the  day,  much  like 
the  rest  of  the  people,  only  that  they  looked  wiser 

VOL.    IX.  2 


18  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1835, 

than  any  others.  Their  hooked  beaks  looked  like 
hooked  noses.  A  dull  scene  this.  A  stranger,  here 
and  there,  poring  over  a  newspaper.  Many  of  the 
stage-folk  sitting  in  chairs  on  the  pavement,  in  front 
of  the  door. 

We  went  to  the  top  of  the  hill  which  formed  part  of 
Gardiner  Greene's  estate,  and  which  is  now  in  the  pro 
cess  of  levelling,  and  pretty  much  taken  away,  except 
the  highest  point,  and  a  narrow  path  to  ascend  to  it, 
It  gives  an  admirable  view  of  the  city,  being  almost  as 
high  as  the  steeples  and  the  dome  of  the  State  House, 
and  overlooking  the  whole  mass  of  brick  buildings  and 
slated  roofs,  with  glimpses  of  streets  far  below.  It  was 
really  a  pity  to  take  it  down.  I  noticed  the  stump 
of  a  very  large  elm,  recently  felled.  No  house  in  the 
city  could  have  reared  its  roof  so  high  as  the  roots  of 
that  tree,  if  indeed  the  church-spires  did  so. 

On  our  drive  home  we  passed  through  Charlestown. 
Stages  in  abundance  were  passing  the  road,  burdened 
with  passengers  inside  and  out ;  also  chaises  and  ba 
rouches,  horsemen  and  footmen.  We  are  a  commu 
nity  of  Sabbath-breakers ! 

August  31s£.  —  A  drive  to  Nahant  yesterday  after 
noon.  Stopped  at  Rice's,  and  afterwards  walked  down 
to  the  steamboat  wharf  to  see  the  passengers  land.  It 
is  strange  how  few  good  faces  there  are  in  the  world, 
comparatively  to  the  ugly  ones.  Scarcely  a  single 
comely  one  in  all  this  collection.  Then  to  the  hoteL 
Barouches  at  the  doors,  and  gentlemen  and  ladies  go 
ing  to  drive,  and  gentlemen  smoking  round  the  piazza. 
The  bar-keeper  had  one  of  Benton's  mint-drops  for  a 
bosom  -  brooch !  It  made  a  very  handsome  one.  I 
crossed  the  beach  for  home  about  sunset.  The  tide 


1835.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  19 

was  so  far  down  as  just  to  give  me  a  passage  on  the 
hard  sand,  between  the  sea  and  the  loose  gravel.  The 
sea  was  calm  and  smooth,  with  only  the  surf-waves 
whitening  along  the  beach.  Several  ladies  and  gentle 
men  on  horseback  were  cantering  and  galloping  before 
and  behind  me. 

A  hint  of  a  story,  —  some  incident  which  should 
bring  on  a  general  war ;  and  the  chief  actor  in  the 
incident  to  have  something  corresponding  to  the  mis 
chief  he  had  caused. 

September  1th.  —  A  drive  to  Ipswich  with  B . 

At  the  tavern  was  an  old,  fat,  country  major,  and  an 
other  old  fellow,  laughing  and  playing  off  jokes  on 
each  other,  —  one  tying  a  ribbon  upon  the  other's 
hat.  One  had  been  a  trumpeter  to  the  major's  troop. 
Walking  about  town,  we  knocked,  for  a  whim,  at  the 
door  of  a  dark  old  house,  and  inquired  if  Miss  Hannah 
Lord  lived  there.  A  woman  of  about  thirty  came  to 
the  door,  with  rather  a  confused  smile,  and  a  disorder 
about  the  bosom  of  her  dress,  as  if  she  had  been  dis 
turbed  while  nursing  her  child.  She  answered  us  with 
great  kindness. 

Entering  the  burial-ground,  where  some  masons 
were  building  a  tomb,  we  found  a  good  many  old 
monuments,  and  several  covered  with  slabs  of  red  free 
stone  or  slate,  and  with  arms  sculptured  on  the  slab, 
or  an  inlaid  circle  of  slate.  On  one  slate  gravestone, 
of  the  Rev.  Nathl.  Rogers,  there  was  a  portrait  of  that 
worthy,  about  a  third  of  the  size  of  life,  carved  in 
relief,  with  his  cloak,  band,  and  wig,  in  excellent  pres 
ervation,  all  the  buttons  of  his  waistcoat  being  cut 
with  great  minuteness,  —  the  minister's  nose  being  on 


20  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1835 

a  level  with  his  cheeks.  It  was  an  upright  gravestone. 
Returning  home,  I  held  a  colloquy  with  a  young  girl 
about  the  riarlit  road.  She  had  come  out  to  feed  a 

o 

pig,  and  was  a  little  suspicious  that  we  were  making 
fun  of  her,  yet  answered  us  with  a  shy  laugh  and 
good-nature,  —  the  pig  all  the  time  squealing  for  his 
dinner. 

Displayed  along  the  walls,  and  suspended  from  the 
pillars  of  the  original  King's  Chapel,  were  coats  of 
arms  of  the  king,  the  successive  governors,  and  other 
distinguished  men.  In  the  pulpit  there  was  an  hour 
glass  on  a  large  and  elaborate  brass  stand.  The  organ 
was  surmounted  by  a  gilt  crown  in  the  centre,  sup 
ported  by  a  gilt  mitre  on  each  side.  The  governor's 
pew  had  Corinthian  pillars,  and  crimson  damask  tap 
estry.  In  1727  it  was  lined  with  china,  probably  tiles. 

Saint  Augustin,  at  mass,  charged  all  that  were  ac 
cursed  to  go  out  of  the  church.  "  Then  a  dead  body 
arose,  and  went  out  of  the  church  into  the  churchyard, 
with  a  white  cloth  on  its  head,  and  stood  there  till 
mass  was  over.  It  was  a  former  lord  of  the  manor, 
whom  a  curate  had  cursed  because  he  refused  to  pay 
his  tithes.  A  justice  also  commanded  the  dead  curate 
to  arise,  and  gave  him  a  rod;  and  the  dead  lord,  kneel 
ing,  received  penance  thereby."  He  then  ordered  the 
lord  to  go  again  to  his  grave,  which  he  did,  and  feD 
immediately  to  ashes.  Saint  Augustin  offered  to  pra;y 
for  the  curate,  that  he  might  remain  on  earth  to  con 
firm  men  in  their  belief ;  but  the  curate  refused,  be 
gause  he  was  in  the  place  of  rest. 

A  sketch  to  be  given  of  a  modern  reformer,  -  -  g 


1835.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  21 

type  of  the  extreme  doctrines  on  the  subject  of  slaves^ 
cold  water,  and  other  such  topics.  He  goes  about  the 
streets  haranguing  most  eloquently,  and  is  on  the  point 
of  making  many  converts,  when  his  labors  are  sud 
denly  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  the  keeper  of 
a  mad-house,  whence  he  has  escaped.  Much  may  be 
made  of  this  idea. 

A  change  from  a  gay  young  girl  to  an  old  woman ; 
the  melancholy  events,  the  effects  of  which  have  clus 
tered  around  her  character,  and  gradually  imbued  it 
with  their  influence,  till  she  becomes  a  lover  of  sick- 
chambers,  taking  pleasure  in  receiving  dying  breaths 
and  in  laying  out  the  dead ;  also  having  her  mind  full 
of  funeral  reminiscences,  and  possessing  more  acquaint 
ances  "beneath  the  burial  turf  than  above  it. 

A  well-concerted  train  of  events  to  be  thrown  into 
confusion  by  some  misplaced  circumstance,  unsuspected 
till  the  catastrophe,  yet  exerting  its  influence  frcin  be 
ginning  to  end. 

On  the  common,  at  dusk,  after  a  salute  from  two 
field-pieces,  the  smoke  lay  long  and  heavily  on  the 
ground,  without  much  spreading  beyond  the  original 
space  over  which  it  had  gushed  from  the  guns.  It 
was  about  the  height  of  a  man.  The  evening  clear, 
but  with  an  autumnal  chill. 

The  world  is  so  sad  and  solemn,  that  things  meant 
in  jest  are  liable,  by  an  overpowering  influence,  to 
become   dreadful   earnest,  —  gayty  dressed  fantasies 
turning  to  ghostly  and  black -clad  images  of  them 
selves. 


22  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [183& 

A  story,  the  hero  of  which  is  to  be  represented  aa 
naturally  capable  of  deep  and  strong  passion,  and 
looking  forward  to  the  time  when  he  shall  feel  pas 
sionate  love,  which  is  to  be  the  great  event  of  his  ex 
istence.  But  it  so  chances  that  he  never  falls  in  love? 
and  although  he  gives  up  the  expectation  of  so  doing, 
and  marries  calmly,  yet  it  is  somewhat  sadly,  with  sen 
timents  merely  of  esteem  for  his  bride.  The  lady 
might  be  one  who  had  loved  him  early  in  life,  but 
whom  then,  in  his  expectation  of  passionate  love,  he 
had  scorned. 

The  scene  of  a  story  or  sketch  to  be  laid  within  the 
light  of  a  street-lantern ;  the  time,  when  the  lamp  is 
near  going  out ;  and  the  catastrophe  to  be  simulta 
neous  with  the  last  flickering  gleam. 

The  peculiar  weariness  and  depression  of  spirits 
which  is  felt  after  a  day  wasted  in  turning  over  a 
magazine  or  other  light  miscellany,  different  from  the 
state  of  the  mind  after  severe  study ;  because  there 
has  been  no  excitement,  no  difficulties  to  be  overcome, 
but  the  spirits  have  evaporated  insensibly. 

To  represent  the  process  by  which  sober  truth  grad 
ually  strips  off  all  the  beautiful  draperies  with  which 
imagination  has  enveloped  a  beloved  object,  till  from 
an  angel  she  turns  out  to  be  a  merely  ordinary  woman. 
This  to  be  done  without  caricature,  perhaps  with  a 
quiet  humor  interfused,  but  the  prevailing  impression 
to  be  a  sad  one.  The  story  might  consist  of  the  vari 
ous  alterations  in  the  feelings  of  the  absent  lover, 
caused  by  successive  events  that  display  the  true  char* 
acter  of  his  mistress ;  and  the  catastrophe  should  take 


1835.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  23 

place  at  their  meeting,  when  he  finds  himself  equally 
disappointed  in  her  person ;  or  the  whole  spirit  of  the 
thing  may  here  be  reproduced. 

Last  evening,  from  the  opposite  shore  of  the  North 
River,  a  view  of  the  town  mirrored  in  the  water,  which 
was  as  smooth  as  glass,  with  no  perceptible  tide  or  agi 
tation,  except  a  trifling  swell  and  reflux  on  the  sand., 
although  the  shadow  of  the  moon  danced  in  it.  The 
picture  of  the  town  perfect  in  the  water,  —  towers  of 
churches,  houses,  with  here  and  there  a  light  gleaming 
near  the  shore  above,  and  more  faintly  glimmering 
under  water,  —  all  perfect,  but  somewhat  more  hazy 
and  indistinct  than  the  reality.  There  were  many 
clouds  flitting  about  the  sky ;  and  the  picture  of  each 
could  be  traced  in  the  water,  —  the  ghost  of  what  was 
itself  unsubstantial.  The  rattling  of  wheels  heard 
long  and  far  through  the  town.  Voices  of  people  talk 
ing  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  the  tones  being  so 
distinguishable  in  all  their  variations  that  it  seemed 
as  if  what  was  there  said  might  be  understood ;  but  it 
was  not  so. 

Two  persons  might  be  bitter  enemies  through  life, 
and  mutually  cause  the  ruin  of  one  another,  and  of 
all  that  were  dear  to  them.  Finally,  meeting  at  the 
funeral  of  a  grandchild,  the  offspring  of  a  son  and 
daughter  married  without  their  consent,  —  and  who, 
as  well  as  the  child,  had  been  the  victims  of  their  ha 
tred,  —  they  might  discover  that  the  supposed  ground 
of  the  quarrel  was  altogether  a  mistake,  and  then  be 
wofully  reconciled. 

Two  persons,  by  mutual  agreement,  to  make  their 


24  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1835 

wills  in  each  other's  favor,  then  to  wait  impatiently  foi 
one  another's  death,  and  both  to  be  informed  of  the 
desired  event  at  the  same  time.  Both,  in  most  joyous 
sorrow,  hasten  to  be  present  at  the  funeral,  meet,  and 
find  themselves  both  hoaxed. 

The  story  of  a  man,  cold  and  hard-hearted,  and  ac 
knowledging  no  brotherhood  with  mankind.  At  his 
death  they  might  try  to  dig  him  a  grave,  but,  at  a  lit 
tle  space  beneath  the  ground,  strike  upon  a  rock,  as  if 
the  earth  refused  to  receive  the  unnatural  son  into  her 
bosom.  Then  they  would  put  him  into  an  old  sepul 
chre,  where  the  coffins  and  corpses  were  all  turned  to 
dust,  and  so  he  would  be  alone.  Then  the  body  would 
petrify  ;  and  he  having  died  in  some  characteristic  act 
and  expression,  he  would  seem,  through  endless  ages 
of  death,  to  repel  society  as  in  life,  and  no  one  would 
be  buried  in  that  tomb  forever. 

Cannon  transformed  to  church-bells. 

A  person,  even  before  middle  age,  may  become 
musty  and  faded  among  the  people  with  whom  he  has 
grown  up  from  childhood  ;  but,  by  migrating  to  a  new 
place,  he  appears  fresh  with  the  effect  of  youth,  which 
may  be  communicated  from  the  impressions  of  others 
to  his  own  feelings. 

In  an  old  house,  a  mysterious  knocking  might  be 
heard  on  the  wall,  where  had  formerly  been  a  door 
way,  now  bricked  up. 

It  might  be  stated,  as  the  closing  circumstance  of  a 
tale,  that  the  body  of  one  of  the  characters  had  been 
petrified,  and  still  existed  in  that  state. 


1835.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  25 

A  young  man  to  win  the  love  of  a  girl,  without  any 
serious  intentions,  and  to  find  that  in  that  love,  which 
might  have  been  the  greatest  blessing  of  his  life,  he 
had  conjured  up  a  spirit  of  mischief  which  pursued 
him  throughout  his  whole  career,  —  and  this  without 
any  revengeful  purposes  on  the  part  of  the  deserted 
girl 

Two  lovers,  or  other  persons,  on  the  most  private 
business,  to  appoint  a  meeting  in  what  they  supposed 
to  be  a  place  of  the  utmost  solitude,  and  to  find  it 
thronged  with  people. 

October  11th.  —  Some  of  the  oaks  are  now  a  deep 
brown  red  ;  others  are  changed  to  a  light  green,  which  t 
at  a  little  distance,  especially  in  the  sunshine,  looks 
like  the  green  of  early  spring.  In  some  trees,  differ 
ent  masses  of  the  foliage  show  each  of  these  hues. 
Some  of  the  walnut-trees  have  a  yet  more  delicate 
green.  Others  are  of  a  bright  sunny  yellow. 

Mr.  was  married  to  Miss  last  Wednes 
day.  Yesterday  Mr.  Brazer,  preaching  on  the  comet, 
observed  that  not  one,  probably,  of  all  who  heard  him, 
would  witness  its  reappearance.  Mrs.  -  -  shed  tears. 
Poor  soul !  she  would  be  contented  to  dwell  in  earthly 
love  to  all  eternity  ! 

Some  treasure  or  other  thing  to  be  buried,  and  a 
tree  planted  directly  over  the  spot,  so  as  to  embrace  it 
with  its  roots. 

A  tree,  tall  and  venerable,  to  be  said  by  tradition 
to  have  been  the  staff  of  some  famous  man,  who  hap 
pened  to  thrust  it  into  the  ground,  where  it  took  root. 


26  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1835. 

A  fellow  without  money,  having  a  hundred  and  sev 
enty  miles  to  go,  fastened  a  chain  and  padlock  to  hia 
legs,  and  lay  down  to  sleep  in  a  field.  He  was  appre 
hended,  and  carried  gratis  to  a  jail  in  the  town  whithei 
he  desired  to  go. 

An  old  volume  in  a  large  library,  — •  every  one  to  be 
afraid  to  unclasp  and  open  it,  because  it  was  said  ta 
be  a  book  of  magic. 

A  ghost  seen  by  moonlight;  when  the  moon  was 
out,  it  would  shine  and  melt  through  the  airy  sub 
stance  of  the  ghost,  as  through  a  cloud. 

Prideaux,  Bishop  of  Worcester,  during  the  sway  of 
the  Parliament,  was  forced  to  support  himself  and  his 
family  by  selling  his  household  goods.  A  friend 
asked  him,  "  How  doth  your  lordship  ?  "  "  Never 
better  in  my  life,"  said  the  Bishop,  "  only  I  have  too 
great  a  stomach;  for  I  have  eaten  that  little  plate 
which  the  sequestrators  left  me.  I  have  eaten  a  great 
library  of  excellent  books.  I  have  eaten  a  great  deal 
of  linen,  much  of  my  brass,  some  of  my  pewter,  and 
now  I  am  come  to  eat  iron ;  and  what  will  come  next 
I  know  not." 

A  scold  and  a  blockhead,  —  brimstone  and  wood, — 
a  good  match. 

To  make  one's  own  reflection  in  a  mirror  the  sub 
ject  of  a  story. 

In  a  dream  to  wander  to  some  place  where  may  be 
heard  the  complaints  of  all  the  miserable  on  earth. 


1835.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  27 

Some  common  quality  or  circumstance  that  should 
bring  together  people  the  most  unlike  in  all  other  re 
spects,  and  make  a  brotherhood  and  sisterhood  of 
them,  —  the  rich  and  the  proud  finding  themselves  in 
the  same  category  with  the  mean  and  the  despised. 

A  person  to  consider  himself  as  the  prime  mover  of 
certain  remarkable  events,  but  to  discover  that  his 
actions  have  not  contributed  in  the  least  thereto. 
Another  person  to  be  the  cause,  without  suspecting  it. 

October  25th.  —  A  person  or  family  long  desires 
some  particular  good.  At  last  it  comes  in  such  pro 
fusion  as  to  be  the  great  pest  of  their  lives. 

A  man,  perhaps  with  a  persuasion  that  he  shall 
make  his  fortune  by  some  singular  means,  and  with 
an  eager  longing  so  to  do,  while  digging  or  boring  for 
water,  to  strike  upon  a  salt-spring. 

To  have  one  event  operate  in  several  places,  —  as, 
for  example,  if  a  man's  head  were  to  be  cut  off  in  one 
town,  men's  heads  to  drop  off  in  several  towns. 

Follow  out  the  fantasy  of  a  man  taking  his  life  by 
instalments,  instead  of  at  one  payment,  —  say  ten 
years  of  life  alternately  with  ten  years  of  suspended 
animation. 

Sentiments  in  a  foreign  language,  which  merely  con 
vey  the  sentiment  without  retaining  to  the  reader  any 
graces  of  style  or  harmony  of  sound,  have  somewhat  of 
the  charm  of  thoughts  in  one's  own  mind  that  have 
not  yet  been  put  into  words.  No  possible  words  that 


28  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1836. 

we  might  adapt  to  them  could  realize  the  unshaped 
beauty  that  they  appear  to  possess.  This  is  the  rea 
son  that  translations  are  never  satisfactory,  —  and  less 
so,  I  should  think,  to  one  who  cannot  than  to  one  who 
can  pronounce  the  language. 

A  person  to  be  writing  a  tale,  and  to  find  that  it 
shapes  itself  against  his  intentions;  that  the  charac 
ters  act  otherwise  than  he  thought;  that  unforeseen 
events  occur;  and  a  catastrophe  comes  which  he 
strives  in  vain  to  avert.  It  might  shadow  forth  his 
own  fate,  —  he  having  made  himself  one  of  the  per- 


It  is  a  singular  thing,  that,  at  the  distance,  say,  o£ 
five  feet,  the  work  of  the  greatest  dunce  looks  just  as 
well  as  that  of  the  greatest  genius,  —  that  little  space 
being  all  the  distance  between  genius  and  stupidity. 

Mrs.  Sigourney  says,  after  Coleridge,  that  "  poetry 
has  been  its  own  exceeding  great  reward."  For  the 
writing,  perhaps ;  but  would  it  be  so  for  the  reading  ? 

Four  precepts  :  To  break  off  customs ;  to  shake  off 
spirits  ill-disposed ;  to  meditate  on  youth ;  to  do  noth 
ing  against  one's  genius. 

Salem,  August  31,  1886.  —  A  walk,  yesterday, 
down  to  the  shore,  near  the  hospital.  Standing  011  the 
old  grassy  battery,  that  forms  a  semicircle,  and  look 
ing  seaward.  The  sun  not  a  great  way  above  the  hori 
zon,  yet  so  far  as  to  give  a  very  golden  brightness, 
when  it  shone  out.  Clouds  in  the  vicinity  of  the  sun, 
and  nearly  all  the  rest  of  the  sky  covered  with  clouds 


1836.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  29 

in  masses,  not  a  gray  uniformity  of  cloud.  A  fresh 
breeze  blowing  from  land  seaward.  If  it  had  been 
blowing  from  the  sea,  it  would  have  raised  it  in  heavy 
billows,  and  caused  it  to  dash  high  against  the  rocks. 
But  now  its  surface  was  not  all  commoved  with  bil 
lows  ;  there  was  only  roughness  enough  to  take  off  the 
gleam,  and  give  it  the  aspect  of  iron  after  cooling. 
The  clouds  above  added  to  the  black  appearance.  A 
few  sea-birds  were  flitting  over  the  water,  only  visible 
at  moments,  when  they  turned  their  white  bosoms  to 
wards  me,  —  as  if  they  were  then  first  created.  The 
sunshine  had  a  singular  effect.  The  clouds  would  in 
terpose  in  such  a  manner  that  some  objects  were  shaded 
from  it,  while  others  were  strongly  illuminated.  Some 
of  the  islands  lay  in  the  shade,  dark  and  gloomy,  while 
others  were  bright  and  favored  spots.  The  white 
light -house  was  sometimes  very  cheerfully  marked. 
There  was  a  schooner  about  a  mile  from  the  shore,  at 
anchor,  laden  apparently  with  lumber.  The  sea  all 
about  her  had  the  black,  iron  aspect  which  I  have  de 
scribed;  but  the  vessel  herself  was  alight.  Hull, 
masts,  and  spars  were  all  gilded,  and  the  rigging  was 
made  of  golden  threads.  A  small  white  streak  of 
foam  breaking  around  the  bows,  which  were  towards 
the  wind.  The  shadowiness  of  the  clouds  overhead 
made  the  effect  of  the  sunlight  strange,  where  it  fell. 

September.  —  The  elm-trees  have  golden  branches 
intermingled  with  their  green  already,  and  so  they  had 
on  the  first  of  the  month 

To  picture  the  predicament  of  worldly  people,  if  ad 
mitted  to  paradise. 


80  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1836. 

As  the  architecture  of  a  country  always  follows  the 
earliest  structures,  American  architecture  should  be  a 
refinement  of  the  log-house.  The  Egyptian  is  so  of 
the  cavern  and  mound ;  the  Chinese,  of  the  tent ;  the 
Gothic,  of  overarching  trees  ;  the  Greek,  of  a  cabin. 

"  Though  we  speak  nonsense,  God  will  pick  out  the 
meaning  of  it," — an  extempore  prayer  by  a  New  Eng 
land  divine. 

In  old  times  it  must  have  been  much  less  customary 
than  now  to  drink  pure  water.  Walker  emphatically 
mentions,  among  the  sufferings  of  a  clergyman's  wife 
and  family  in  the  Great  Rebellion,  that  they  were 
forced  to  drink  water,  with  crab-apples  stamped  in  it 
to  relish  it. 

Mr.  Kirby,  author  of  a  work  on  the  History,  Habits, 
and  Instincts  of  Animals,  questions  whether  there  may 
not  be  an  abyss  of  waters  within  the  globe,  communi 
cating  with  the  ocean,  and  whether  the  huge  animals 
of  the  Saurian  tribe  —  great  reptiles,  supposed  to  be 
exclusively  antediluvian,  and  now  extinct  —  may  not 
be  inhabitants  of  it.  He  quotes  a  passage  from  Reve 
lation,  where  the  creatures  under  the  earth  are  spoken 
of  as  distinct  from  those  of  the  sea,  and  speaks  of  a 
Saurian  fossil  that  has  been  found  deep  in  the  subter 
ranean  regions.  He  thinks,  or  suggests,  that  these 
may  be  the  dragons  of  Scripture. 

The  elephant  is  not  particularly  sagacious  in  the 
wild  state,  but  becomes  so  when  tamed.  The  fox  di 
rectly  the  contrary,  and  likewise  the  wolf. 


1836.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  31 

A  modern  Jewish  adage,  —  u  Let  a  man  clothe  him- 
self  beneath  his  ability,  his  children  according  to  his 
ability,  and  his  wife  above  his  ability." 

It  is  said  of  the  eagle,  that,  in  however  long  a  flight, 
he  is  never  seen  to  clap  his  wings  to  his  sides.  He 
seems  to  govern  his  movements  by  the  inclination  of 
his  wings  and  tail  to  the  wind,  as  a  ship  is  propelled 
by  the  action  of  the  wind  on  her  sails. 

In  old  country-houses  in  England,  instead  of  glass 
for  windows,  they  used  wicker,  or  fine  strips  of  oak 
disposed  checkerwise.  Horn  was  also  used.  The  win 
dows  of  princes  and  great  noblemen  were  of  crystal ; 
those  of  Studley  Castle,  Holinshed  says,  of  beryl. 
There  were  seldom  chimneys ;  and  they  cooked  their 
meats  by  a  fire  made  against  an  iron  back  in  the  great 
hall.  Houses,  often  of  gentry,  were  built  of  a  heavy 
timber  frame,  filled  up  with  lath  and  plaster.  People 
slept  on  rough  mats  or  straw  pallets,  with  a  round  log 
for  a  pillow ;  seldom  better  beds  than  a  mattress,  with 
a  sack  of  chaff  for  a  pillow. 

October  25th.  —  A  walk  yesterday  through  Dark 
Lane,  and  home  through  the  village  of  Danvers.  Land 
scape  now  wholly  autumnal.  Saw  an  elderly  man  la 
den  with  two  dry,  yellow,  rustling  bundles  of  Indian 
corn-stalks,  —  a  good  personification  of  Autumn.  An 
other  man  hoeing  up  potatoes.  Rows  of  white  cabbages 
lay  ripening.  Fields  of  dry  Indian  corn.  The  grass 
has  still  considerable  greenness.  Wild  rose-bushes  de 
void  of  leaves,  with  their  deep,  bright  red  seed-vessels. 
Meeting-house  in  Danvers  seen  at  a  distance,  with  the 
sun  shining  through  the  windows  of  its  belfry.  Bar 


AM  Kit  1C  AX  NOTE-BOOKS. 

he*.  —  thft  leave*  now  erf  a  brown  red,  still 
juj/?y  and  healthy  ;  very  few  berrie*  remaining.  mostly 
frostbitten  and  wilted.  All  among  the  yet  green  gra**, 
dry  fctalks  of  weeds.  The  down  of  thistles  occasion- 
ally  aeen  flying  through  tfcue  »unny  air. 

In  tbi*  diamal  chamber  FAME  wa*  won. 
Uni//n  Street,^ 


?  wh/>  are  very  difficult  in  choosing  wive* 
aui  if  tlj/^y  would  tak^j  n/^ne  of  Nature'*  ready-ma/le 
work*,  but  want  a  woman  manufactured  f/artixrularly 


A  ry/tin/;il  of  the  paaaengera  in  a  street  :  called  by 
^f/w-Jxxly  t/j  d&wlz  upon  h^/me  jx>int»  imjK^r-tant  to 
him. 

Every  individual  haa  a  place  t/>  fill  in  tlue  world, 
and  w  irrifx/rtant,  in  ftorne  re«[>e4r^«,  whether  he  cli/x>»ea 
to  Ui  *r>  or  n//t. 

A  Thanksgiving  dinner.  All  tliii  ms«erable  on  earth 
are  t/>  fxi  invitr^l,  —  a«  the  drunkard,  the  bereaved  par 
ent,  the  ruined  merchant,  tlie  broken^iearted  lover, 
the  jxx>r  widow,  the  old  man  and  woman  who  liave 
outJiv<-/l  tlieir  generation,  tlie  disappointed  author,  tljje 
wounde/1,  «ick,  and  broken  Hol/lier,  tlie  dij^eawxl  j>er- 
w;n,  the  iriflrlel,  tli^  man  with  an  evil  conscience,  lit 
tle  orphan  children  or  children  of  neglectful  parent*, 
tihall  he  admitted  to  the  tai>le,  and  tunny  other*.  The 
giver  of  the  fca»t  goen  out  to  deliver  hi*  invitation*. 
Home  of  the  gucatH  he  meet*  in  the  Htrw;t*,  Home  lie 
for  at  th«  drx^r*  of  their  hoiu*e».  Tlte  dewjrij> 


1830.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-ROOKS.  88 

tion  must  be  rapid.  Hut  who  must  l>c  the  giver  of  the 
feast,  and  what  his  claims  to  preside  ?  A  man  who 
h:is  never  found  out  what  ho  is  (it  for,  who  lias  un 
settled  aims  or  objects  in  life,  and  whose  mind  gnaws 
him,  making  him  the  .sufferer  of  many  kinds  of  mis 
ery.  I  Ic  should  meet  some  pious,  old,  sorrowful  per- 
Hon,  witli  more  outward  calamities  than  any  other,  and 
invite  him,  with  a  reflection  that  piety  would  make  all 
that  miserable  eomj)any  truly  thankful. 

Merry,  in  "  merry  Kn^land,"  does  not  mean  mirth 
ful  ;  hut  is  corrupted  from  an  old  Teutonic  word  si^- 
nifyin^  fajnoiis  or  renowned. 

In  an  old  London  newspaper,  K>78,  there  is  an  ad 
vertisement,  amoii^  otlutr  goods  at  auction,  of  a  black 
,  about  fifteen  years  old,  to  be  sold. 


We  sometimes  congratulate  ourselves  at  the  moment 
0f  waking  from  a  troubled  dream  :  it  may  be  so  the 
moment  after  death. 

The  race  of  mankind  to  be  swept  away,  leaving  all 
their  cities  and  works.  Thru  another  human  pair  to 
be  plaeed  in  the  world,  with  native  intelligence  like 
Adam  and  Kve,  but  knowing  nothing  of  their  prede 
cessors  or  of  their  own  nature  and  destiny.  They, 
perhaps,  to  he  described  as  working  out  this  knowledge 
by  their  sympathy  with  what  they  saw,  and  by  their 
own  feelings. 

Memorials  of  the  family  of  Hawthorne  in  the  church 
i  f  the  village  of  Dundry,  Somersetshire,  Kugland.  The 
church  is  ancient  and  Miiall,  and  has  a  prodigiously 


54  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [18361 

high  tower  of  more  modern  date,  being  erected  in  the 
time  of  Edward  IV.  It  serves  as  a  landmark  for  an 
amazing  extent  of  country. 

A  singular  fact,  that,  when  man  is  a  brute,  he  i? 
the  most  sensual  and  loathsome  of  all  brutes. 

A  snake  taken  into  a  man's  stomach  and  nourished 
there  from  fifteen  years  to  thirty-five,  tormenting  him 
most  horribly.  A  type  of  envy  or  some  other  evil  pas 
sion. 

A  sketch  illustrating  the  imperfect  compensations 
which  time  makes  for  its  devastations  on  the  person, 
—  giving  a  wreath  of  laurel  while  it  causes  baldness, 
honors  for  infirmities,  wealth  for  a  broken  constitu 
tion,  —  and  at  last,  when  a  man  has  everything  that 
seems  desirable,  death  seizes  him.  To  contrast  the 
man  who  has  thus  reached  the  summit  of  ambition 
with  the  ambitious  youth. 

Walking  along  the  track  of  the  railroad,  I  observed 
a  place  where  the  workmen  had  bored  a  hole  through 
the  solid  rock,  in  order  to  blast  it ;  but,  striking  a 
spring  of  water  beneath  the  rock,  it  gushed  up  through 
the  hole.  It  looked  as  if  the  water  were  contained 
within  the  rock. 

A  Fancy  Ball,  in  which  the  prominent  American 
writers  should  appear,  dressed  in  character. 

A  lament  for  life's  wasted  sunshine. 

A  new  classification  of  society  to  be  instituted.     In 


1836.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  35 

stead  of  rich  and  poor,  high  and  low,  they  are  to  be 
classed,  —  First,  by  their  sorrows  :  for  instance,  when 
ever  there  are  any,  whether  in  fair  mansion  or  hovel, 
who  are  mourning  the  loss  of  relations  and  friends, 
and  who  wear  black,  whether  the  cloth  be  coarse  or 
superfine,  they  are  to  make  one  class.  Secondly,  all 
who  have  the  same  maladies,  whether  they  lie  under 
damask  canopies  or  on  straw  pallets  or  in  the  wards  of 
hospitals,  they  are  to  form  one  class.  Thirdly,  all  who 
are  guilty  of  the  same  sins,  whether  the  world  knows 
them  or  not ;  whether  they  languish  in  prison,  looking 
forward  to  the  gallows,  or  walk  honored  among  men, 
they  also  form  a  class.  Then  proceed  to  generalize 
and  classify  the  whole  world  together,  as  none  can 
claim  utter  exemption  from  either  sorrow,  sin,  or  dis 
ease  ;  and  if  they  could,  yet  Death,  like  a  great  par 
ent,  comes  and  sweeps  them  all  through  one  darksome 
portal,  —  all  his  children. 

Fortune  to  come  like  a  pedlar  with  his  goods,  —  as 
wreaths  of  laurel,  diamonds,  crowns ;  selling  them,  but 
asking  for  them  the  sacrifice  of  health,  of  integrity, 
perhaps  of  life  in  the  battle-field,  and  of  the  real  pleas* 
ures  of  existence.  Who  would  buy,  if  the  price  were 
to  be  paid  down  ? 

The  dying  exclamation  of  the  Emperor  Augustus^ 
"  Has  it  not  been  well  acted  ? "  An  essay  on  the 
misery  of  being  always  under  a  mask.  A  veil  may 
be  needful,  but  never  a  mask.  Instances  of  people 
who  wear  masks  in  all  classes  of  society,  and  never 
take  them  off  even  in  the  most  familiar  moments, 
though  sometimes  they  may  chance  to  slip  aside. 


CC  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1836. 

The  various  guises  under  which  Ruin  makes  his 
approaches  to  his  victims :  to  the  merchant,  in  the 
guise  of  a  merchant  offering  speculations  ;  to  the  young 
heir,  a  jolly  companion ;  to  the  maiden,  a  sighing; 
sentimentalist  lover. 

What  were  the  contents  of  the  burden  of  Christian 
in  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress  "  ?  He  must  have  been 
taken  for  a  pedlar  travelling  with  his  pack. 

To  think,  as  the  sun  goes  down,  what  events  have 
happened  in  the  course  of  the  day,  —  events  of  or* 
dinary  occurrence :  as,  the  clocks  have  struck,  the 
dead  have  been  buried. 

Curious  to  imagine  what  murmurings  and  discon 
tent  would  be  excited,  if  any  of  the  great  so-called 
calamities  of  human  beings  were  to  be  abolished,  — 
as,  for  instance,  death. 

Trifles  to  one  are  matters  of  life  and  death  to  an 
other.  As,  for  instance,  a  farmer  desires  a  brisk 
breeze  to  winnow  his  grain ;  and  mariners,  to  blow 
them  out  of  the  reach  of  pirates. 

A  recluse,  like  myself,  or  a  prisoner,  to  measure 
time  by  the  progress  of  sunshine  through  his  cham 
ber. 

Would  it  not  be  wiser  for  people  to  rejoice  at  all 
that  they  now  sorrow  for,  and  vice  versa  ?  To  put  on 
bridal  garments  at  funerals,  and  mourning  at  wed 
dings  ?  For  their  friends  to  condole  with  them  when 
they  attained  riches  and  honor,  as  only  so  much  car« 
added? 


I836.J  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  37 

If  in  a  village  it  were  a  custom  to  hang  a  funeral 
garland  or  other  token  of  death  on  a  house  where 
some  one  had  died,  and  there  to  let  it  remain  till  a 
death  occurred  elsewhere,  and  then  to  hang  that  same 
garland  over  the  other  house,  it  would  have,  methinks, 
a  strong  effect. 

No  fountain  so  small  but  that  Heaven  may  be  im 
aged  in  its  bosom. 

Fame !  Some  very  humble  persons  in  a  town  may 
be  said  to  possess  it,  —  as,  the  penny-post,  the  town- 
crier,  the  constable,  —  and  they  are  known  to  every 
body  ;  while  many  richer,  more  intellectual,  worthier 
persons  are  unknown  by  the  majority  of  their  fellow- 
citizens.  Something  analogous  in  the  world  at  large. 

The  ideas  of  people  in  general  are  not  raised  higher 
than  the  roof?  of  the  houses.  All  their  interests  ex 
tend  over  the  earth's  surface  in  a  layer  of  that  thick 
ness.  The  meeting-house  steeple  reaches  out  of  their 
sphere. 

Nobody  will  use  other  people's  experience,  nor  have 
any  of  his  own  till  it  is  too  late  to  use  it. 

Two  lovers  to  plan  the  building  of  a  pleasure-house 
on  a  certain  spot  of  ground,  but  various  seeming  acci 
dents  prevent  it.  Once  they  find  a  group  of  miserable 
children  there  ;  once  it  is  the  scene  where  crime  is 
plotted ;  at  last  the  dead  body  of  one  of  the  lovers 
or  of  a  dear  friend  is  found  there ;  and,  instead  of  a 
pleasure-house,  they  build  a  marble  tomb.  The  moral? 
—  that  there  is  no  place  on  eartfi  fit  for  the  site  of  a 


88  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1836. 

pleasure-house,  because  there  is  no  spot  that  may  not 
have  been  saddened  by  human  grief,  stained  by  crime, 
or  hallowed  by  death.  It  might  be  three  friends  who 
plan  it,  instead  of  two  lovers ;  and  the  dearest  one 
dies. 

Comfort  for  childless  people.  A  married  couple 
with  ten  children  have  been  the  means  of  bringing 
about  ten  funerals. 

A  blind  man  on  a  dark  night  carried  a  torch,  in 
order  that  people  might  see  him,  and  not  run  against 
him,  and  direct  him  how  to  avoid  dangers. 

To  picture  a  child's  (one  of  four  or  five  years  old) 
reminiscences  at  sunset  of  a  long  summer's  day,  —  his 
first  awakening,  his  studies,  his  sports,  his  little  fits  of 
passion,  perhaps  a  whipping,  etc. 

The  blind  man's  walk. 

To  picture  a  virtuous  family,  the  different  members 
examples  of  virtuous  dispositions  in  their  way ;  then 
introduce  a  vicious  person,  and  trace  out  the  relations 
that  arise  between  him  and  them,  and  the  manner  in 
which  all  are  affected. 

A  man  to  flatter  himself  with  the  idea  that  he  would 
not  be  guilty  of  some  certain  wickedness,  —  as,  for  in 
stance,  to  yield  to  the  personal  temptations  of  the 
Devil,  —  yet  to  find,  ultimately,  that  he  was  at  that 
very  time  committing  that  same  wickedness. 

What  would  a  man  do,  if  he  were  compelled  to  live 


1836.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  39 

always  in  the  sultry  heat  of  society,  and  could  never 
bathe  himself  in  cool  solitude  ? 

A  girl's  lover  to  be  slain  and  buried  in  her  flower, 
garden,  and  the  earth  levelled  over  him.  That  partic 
ular  spot,  which  she  happens  to  plant  with  some  pe 
culiar  variety  of  flowers,  produces  them  of  admirable 
splendor,  beauty,  and  perfume ;  and  she  delights,  with 
an  indescribable  impulse,  to  wear  them  in  her  bosom, 
and  scent  her  chamber  with  them.  Thus  the  classic 
fantasy  would  be  realized,  of  dead  people  transformed 
to  flowers. 

Objects  seen  by  a  magic-lantern  reversed.  A  street, 
or  other  location,  might  be  presented,  where  there 
would  be  opportunity  to  bring  forward  all  objects  of 
worldly  interest,  and  thus  much  pleasant  satire  might 
be  the  result. 

The  Abyssinians,  after  dressing  their  hair,  sleep 
with  their  heads  in  a  forked  stick,  in  order  not  to  dis 
compose  it. 

At  the  battle  of  Edge  Hill,  October  23,  1642,  Cap 
tain  John  Smith,  a  soldier  of  note,  Captain  Lieutenant 
to  Lord  James  Stuart's  horse,  with  only  a  groom,  at 
tacked  a  Parliament  officer,  three  cuirassiers,  and 
three  arquebusiers,  and  rescued  the  royal  standard, 
which  they  had  taken  and  were  guarding.  Was  this 
the  Virginian  Smith  ? 

Stephen  Gowans  supposed  that  the  bodies  of  Adam 
and  Eve  were  clothed  in  robes  of  light,  which  van 
ished  after  their  sin. 


iO  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS. 

IWd  Chancellor  Clare,  towards  the  close  of  his  life, 
went  to  a  village  church,  where  he  might  not  be  known, 
to  partake  of  the  Sacrament. 

A  HiifcHiortary  to  the  heathen  in  a  great  city,  to  de- 
acribe  hia  labors  in  the  manner  of  a  foreign  mission. 

In  the  tenth  century,  mechanism  of  organs  so 
clurosy,  that  one  in  Westminster  Abbey,  with  four 
hundr<-xd  pipes,  required  twenty-six  bellows  and  sev 
enty  stout  men.  First  organ  ever  known  in  Europe  re 
ceived  by  King  Pepin,  from  the  Emperor  Constantino, 
in  757.  Water  boiling  was  kept  in  a  reservoir  under 
the  pipes ;  and,  the  keys  being  struck,  the  valves 
opened,  and  steam  rushed  through  with  noise.  The 
secret  of  working  them  thus  is  now  lost.  Then  came 
tallows  organs,  first  used  by  Louis  le  Debonnaire. 

After  the  siege  of  Antwerp,  the  children  played 
marbles  in  the  streets  with  grape  and  cannon  shot. 

A  shell,  in  falling,  buries  itself  in  the  earth,  and, 
when  it,  explodes,  a  large  pit  is  made  by  the  earth  be 
ing  blown  ahout  in  all  directions,  —  large  enough,  some 
times,  to  hold  throe  or  four  cart-loads  of  earth.  The 
holes  are,  circular. 

A  I'Ycneh  artillery-man  being  buried  in  his  military 
cloak  on  the  ramparts,  a  shell  exploded,  and  unburied 
him. 

In  1,1m  Netherlands,  to  form  hedges,  young  trees  are 
Interwoven  int.o  a  unit,  of  lattice-work  ;  and,  in  time, 
tln-y  {/row  Inj'Hlirr  nl  t.h«  point  of  junction,  so  thai 
tli«  fence  it  all  <»i  ono  p'uuH). 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  41 

To  ADOW  the  effect  of  gratified  revenge.  As  an  in 
stance,  merely,  suppose  a  woman  sues  her  lover  for 
breach  of  promise,  and  gets  the  money  by  instalments, 
through  a  long  series  of  years.  At  last,  when  the  mis 
erable  victim  were  utterly  trodden  down,  the  triumpher 
would  have  become  a  very  devil  of  evil  passions,  — 
they  having  overgrown  his  whole  nature  ;  so  that  a 
far  greater  evil  would  have  come  upon  himself  than 
on  his  victim. 

Anciently,  when  long-buried  bodies  were  found  un- 
decayed  in  the  grave,  a  species  of  sanctity  was  attrib 
uted  to  them. 

Some  chimneys  of  ancient  halls  used  to  be  swept  by 
having  a  culverin  fired  up  them. 

At  Leith,  in  1711,  a  glass  bottle  was  blown  of  the 
capacity  of  two  English  bushels. 

fhe  buff  and  blue  of  the  Union  were  adopted  by 
Fox  and  the  Whig  party  in  England.  The  Prince  of 
Wales  wore  them. 

In  1621,  a  Mr.  Copinger  left  a  certain  charity,  an 
almhouse,  of  which  four  poor  persons  were  to  partake, 
after  the  death  of  his  eldest  son  and  his  wife.  It  was 
a  tenement  and  yard.  The  parson,  headboroughs,  and 
his  five  other  sons  were  to  appoint  the  persons.  At 
the  time  specified,  however,  all  but  one  of  his  son* 
were  dead  ;  and  he  was  in  such  poor  circumstances 
that  he  obtained  the  benefit  of  the  charity  for  himself, 
M  one  of  the  four. 


42  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS-  [1836, 

A  town  clerk  arranges  the  publishments  that  are 
given  in,  according  to  his  own  judgment. 

To  make  a  story  from  Robert  Raikes  seeing  dirty 
children  at  play,  in  the  streets  of  London,  and  inquir 
ing  of  a  woman  about  them.  She  tells  him  that  on 
Sundays,  when  they  were  not  employed,  they  were  a 
great  deal  worse,  making  the  streets  like  hell ;  playing 
at  church,  etc.  He  was  therefore  induced  to  employ 
women  at  a  shilling  to  teach  them  on  Sundays,  and 
thus  Sunday-schools  were  established. 

To  represent  the  different  departments  of  the  United 
States  government  by  village  functionaries.  The  War 
Department  by  watchmen,  the  law  by  constables,  the 
merchants  by  a  variety  store,  etc. 

At  the  accession  of  Bloody  Mary,  a  man,  coming 
into  a  house,  sounded  three  times  with  his  mouth,  as 
with  a  trumpet,  and  then  made  proclamation  to-  the 
family.  A  bonfire  was  built,  and  little  children  were 
made  to  carry  wood  to  it,  that  they  might  remember 
the  circumstance  in  old  age.  Meat  and  drink  were 
provided  at  the  bonfires. 

To  describe  a  boyish  combat  with  snowballs,  and 
the  victorious  leader  to  have  a  statue  of  snow  erected 
to  him.  A  satire  on  ambition  and  fame  to  be  made 
out  of  this  idea.  It  might  be  a  child's  story. 

Our  body  to  be  possessed  by  two  different  spirits ; 
BO  that  half  of  the  visage  shall  express  one  mood,  and 
the  other  half  another. 


1836.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  43 

An  old  English  sea-captain  desires  to  have  a  fast, 
sailing  ship,  to  keep  a  good  table,  and  to  sail  between 
the  tropics  without  making  land. 

A  rich  man  left  by  will  his  mansion  and  estate  to  a 
poor  couple.  They  remove  into  it,  and  find  there  a 
darksome  servant,  whom  they  are  forbidden  by  will  to 
turn  away.  He  becomes  a  torment  to  them ;  and,  in 
the  finale,  he  turns  out  to  be  the  former  master  of  the 
estate. 

Two  persons  to  be  expecting  some  occurrence,  and 
watching  for  the  two  principal  actors  in  it,  and  to  find 
that  the  occurrence  is  even  then  passing,  and  that 
they  themselves  are  the  two  actors. 

There  is  evil  in  every  human  heart,  which  may  re 
main  latent,  perhaps,  through  the  whole  of  life ;  but 
circumstances  may  rouse  it  to  activity.  To  imagine 
such  circumstances.  A  woman,  tempted  to  be  false 
to  her  husband,  apparently  through  mere  whim,  —  or 
a  young  man  to  feel  an  instinctive  thirst  for  blood, 
and  to  commit  murder.  This  appetite  may  be  traced 
in  the  popularity  of  criminal  trials.  The  appetite 
might  be  observed  first  in  a  child,  and  then  traced 
upwards,  manifesting  itself  in  crimes  suited  to  every 
stage  of  life. 

The  good  deeds  in  an  evil  life,  —  the  generous,  no 
ble,  and  excellent  actions  done  by  people  habitually 
wicked,  —  to  ask  what  is  to  become  of  them. 

A  satirical  article  might  be  made  out  of  the  idea 
of  an  imaginary  museum,  containing  such  articles  as 


44  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1836, 

Aaron's  rod,  the  petticoat  of  General  Hawion,  the  pis 
tol  with  which  Benton  shot  Jackson,  —  and  then  a  di 
orama,  consisting  of  political  or  other  scenes,  or  done 
in  wax- work.  The  idea  to  be  wrought  out  and  ex 
tended.  Perhaps  it  might  be  the  museum  of  a  de 
ceased  old  man. 

An  article  might  be  made  respecting  various  kinds 
of  ruin,  —  ruin  as  regards  property,  —  ruin  of  health, 
—  ruin  of  habits,  as  drunkenness  and  all  kinds  of  de 
bauchery, —  ruin  of  character,  while  prosperous  in 
other  respects,  —  ruin  of  the  soul.  Euiii,  perhaps, 
might  be  personified  as  a  demon,  seizing  its  victims 
by  various  holds. 

An  article  on  fire,  on  smoke.  Diseases  of  the  mind 
and  soul, —  even  more  common  than  bodily  diseases. 

Tarleton,  of  the  Eevolution,  is  said  to  have  been  one 
of  the  two  handsomest  men  in  Europe,  —  the  Prince 
of  Wales,  afterwards  George  IV.,  being  the  other. 
Some  authorities,  however,  have  represented  him  as 
ungainly  in  person  and  rough  in  manners.  Tarleton 
was  originally  bred  for  the  law,  but  quitted  law  for 
the  army  early  in  life.  He  was  son  to  a  mayor  of 
Liverpool,  born  in  1754,  of  ancient  family.  He 
wrote  his  own  memoirs  after  returning  from  America. 
Afterwards  in  Parliament.  Never  afterwards  distin 
guished  in  arms.  Created  baronet  in  1818,  and  died 
childless  in  1833.  Thought  he  was  not  sufficiently 
honored  among  more  modern  heroes.  Lost  part  of 
his  right  hand  in  battle  of  Guilford  Court  House.  A 
«nan  of  pleasure  in  England. 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  45 

It  would  be  a  good  idea  for  a  painter  to  paint  a 
picture  of  a  great  actor,  representing  him  in  several 
different  characters  of  one  scene,  —  lago  and  Othello, 
for  instance. 

Maine,  July  5,  1837.  —  Here  I  am,  settled  since 
night  before  last  with  B ,  and  living  very  singu 
larly.  He  leads  a  bachelor's  life  in  his  paternal  man 
sion,  only  a  small  part  of  which  is  occupied  by  a  fam 
ily  who  serve  him.  He  provides  his  own  breakfast 
and  supper,  and  occasionally  his  dinner ;  though  this 
is  oftener,  I  believe,  taken  at  a  hotel,  or  an  eating- 
house,  or  with  some  of  his  relatives.  I  am  his  guest, 
and  my  presence  makes  no  alteration  in  his  way  of  life. 
Our  fare,  thns  far,  has  consisted  of  bread,  butter,  and 
cheese,  crackers,  herrings,  boiled  eggs,  coffee,  milk,  and 
claret  wine.  He  has  another  inmate,  in  the  person  of 
a  queer  little  Frenchman,  who  has  his  breakfast,  tea, 
and  lodging  here,  and  finds  his  dinner  elsewhere. 

Monsieur   S does   not  appear   to   be  more   than 

twenty-one  years  old,  —  a  diminutive  figure,  with  eyes 
askew,  and  otherwise  of  an  ungainly  physiognomy ; 
he  is  ill-dressed  also,  in  a  coarse  blue  coat,  thin  cotton 
pantaloons,  and  unbrushed  boots;  altogether  with  as 
little  of  French  coxcombry  as  can  well  be  imagined, 
though  with  something  of  the  monkey  aspect  insepara 
ble  from  a  little  Frenchman.  He  is,  nevertheless,  an 
intelligent  and  well-informed  man,  apparently  of  ex 
tensive  reading  in  his  own  language,  —  a  philosopher, 
B tells  me,  and  an  infidel.  His  insignificant  per 
sonal  appearance  stands  in  the  way  of  his  success, 
and  prevents  him  from  receiving  the  respect  which  is 
really  due  to  his  talents  and  acquirements,  wherefore 
h*  is  bitterly  dissatisfied  with  the  country  and  its  in' 


46  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1887. 

habitants,  and  often  expresses  his  feelings  to  B 
(who  has  gained  his  confidence  to  a  certain  degree)  in 
very  strong  terms. 

Thus  here  are  three  characters,  each  with  something 
out  of  the  common  way,  living  together  somewhat  like 
monks.  B ,  our  host,  combines  more  high  and  ad 
mirable  qualities,  of  that  sort  which  make  up  a  gentle 
man,  than  any  other  that  I  have  met  with.  Polished, 
yet  natural,  frank,  open,  and  straightforward,  yet  with 
a  delicate  feeling  for  the  sensitiveness  of  his  compan 
ions  ;  of  excellent  temper  and  warm  heart ;  well  ac 
quainted  with  the  world,  with  a  keen  faculty  of  ob 
servation,  which  he  has  had  many  opportunities  of 
exercising,  and  never  varying  from  a  cx>de  of  honor 
and  principle  which  is  really  nice  and  rigid  in  its  way. 
There  is  a  sort  of  philosophy  developing  itself  in  him 
which  will  not  impossibly  cause  him  to  settle  down  in 
this  or  some  other  equally  singular  course  of  life.  He 
seems  almost  to  have  made  up  his  mind  never  to  be 
married,  which  I  wonder  at ;  for  he  has  strong  affec 
tions,  and  is  fond  both  of  women  and  children. 

The  little  Frenchman  impresses  me  very  strongly, 
too,  —  so  lonely  as  he  is  here,  struggling  against  the 
world,  witji  bitter  feelings  in  his  breast,  and  yet  talk 
ing  with  the  vivacity  and  gayety  of  his  nation  ;  mak 
ing  this  his  home  from  darkness  to  daylight,  and 
enjoying  here  what  little  domestic  comfort  and  confi 
dence  there  is  for  him  ;  and  then  going  about  the  live 
long  day,  teaching  French  to  blockheads  who  sneer  at 
him,  and  returning  at  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening 
(for  I  was  wrong  in  saying  he  supped  here,  —  he  eats 
no  supper)  to  his  solitary  room  and  bed.  Before  re 
tiring,  he  goes  to  B 's  bedside,  and,  if  he  finds  him 

awake,  stands  talking  French,  expressing  his  dislike  of 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  47 

the  Americans,  —  "  Je  hats,  je  hais  les  Yankees  /"  — 
thus  giving  vent  to  the  stifled  bitterness  of  the  whole 
day.  In  the  morning  I  hear  him  getting  up  early,  at 
sunrise  or  before,  humming  to  himself,  scuffling  about 
his  chamber  with  his  thick  boots,  and  at  last  taking  his 
departure  for  a  solitary  ramble  till  breakfast.  Then 
he  comes  in,  cheerful  and  vivacious  enough,  eats  pretty 
heartily,  and  is  off  again,  singing  French  chansons  as 
he  goes  down  the  gravel-walk.  The  poor  fellow  has 

nobody  to  sympathize  with  him  but  B ,  and  thus 

u  singular  connection  is  established  between  two  ut 
terly  different  characters. 

Then  here  is  myself,  who  am  likewise  a  queer  char 
acter  in  my  way,  and  have  come  to  spend  a  week  or 
two  with  my  friend  of  half  a  lifetime,  —  the  longest 
space,  probably,  that  we  are  ever  destined  to  spend  to 
gether  ;  for  Fate  seems  preparing  changes  for  both  of 
us.  My  circumstances,  at  least,  cannot  long  continue 

as  they  are  and  have  been ;  and  B ,  too,  stands 

between  high  prosperity  and  utter  ruin. 

I  think  I  should  soon  become  strongly  attached  to 
our  way  of  life,  so  independent  and  untroubled  by  the 
forms  and  restrictions  of  society.  The  house  is  very 
pleasantly  situated,  —  half  a  mile  distant  from  where 
the  town  begins  to  be  thickly  settled,  and  on  a  swell 
af  land,  with  the  road  running  at  a  distance  of  fifty 
yards,  and  a  grassy  tract  and  a  gravel-walk  between. 
Beyond  the  road  rolls  the  Kennebec,  here  two  or  three 
hundred  yards  wide.  Putting  my  head  out  of  the 
window,  I  can  see  it  flowing  steadily  along  straight 
way  between  wooded  banks  ;  but  arriving  nearly  oppo 
site  the  house,  there  is  a  large  and  level  sand  island  in 
the  middle  of  the  stream ;  and  just  below  the  island 
the  current  is  further  interrupted  by  the  works  of  the 


*8  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837. 

mill-dam,  which  is  perhaps  half  finished,  yet  still  in  so 
rude  a  state  that  it  looks  as  much  like  the  ruins  of  a 
dam  destroyed  by  the  spring  freshets  as  like  the  foun 
dations  of  a  dam  yet  to  be.  Irishmen  and  Canadians 
toil  at  work  on  it,  and  the  echoes  of  £heir  hammering 
and  of  the  voices  come  across  the  river  and  up  to  this 
window.  Then  there  is  a  sound  of  the  wind  among 
the  trees  round  the  house ;  and,  when  that  is  silent, 
the  calm,  full,  distant  voice  of  the  river  becomes  audi 
ble.  Looking  downward  thither,  I  see  the  rush  of  the 
current,  and  mark  the  different  eddies,  with  here  and 
there  white  specks  or  streaks  of  foam ;  and  often  a  log 
comes  floating  on,  glistening  in  the  sun,  as  it  rolls 
over  among  the  eddies,  having  voyaged,  for  aught  I 
know,  hundreds  of  miles  from  the  wild  upper  sources 
of  the  river,  passing  down,  down,  between  lines  of  for 
est,  and  sometimes  a  rough  clearing,  till  here  it  floats 
by  cultivated  banks,  and  will  soon  pass  by  the  vil 
lage.  Sometimes  a  long  raft  of  boards  comes  along, 
requiring  the  nicest  skill  in  navigating  it  through  the 
narrow  passage  left  by  the  mill-dam.  Chaises  and 
wagons  occasionally  go  over  the  road,  the  riders  all 
giving  a  passing  glance  at  the  dam,  or  perhaps  alight 
ing  to  examine  it  more  fully,  and  at  last  departing 
with  ominous  shakes  of  the  head  as  to  the  result  of  the 
enterprise.  My  position  is  so  far  retired  from  the 
river  and  mill-dam,  that,  though  the  latter  is  really 
rather  a  scene,  yet  a  sort  of  quiet  seems  to  be  diffused 
over  the  whole.  Two  or  three  times  a  day  this  quiet 
is  broken  by  the  sudden  thunder  from  a  quarry,  where 
the  workmen  are  blasting  rocks ;  and  a  peal  of  thun 
der  sounds  strangely  in  such  a  green,  sunny,  and  quiet 
landscape,  with  the  blue  sky  brightening  the  river. 
I  have  not  seen  much  of  the  people.  There  have 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  49 

been,  however,  several  incidents  which  amused  me, 
though  scarcely  worth  telling.  A  passionate  tavern- 
keeper,  quick  as  a  flash  of  gunpowder,  a  nervous  man, 
and  showing  in  his  demeanor,  it  seems,  a  conscious 
ness  of  his  infirmity  of  temper.  I  was  a  witness  of  a 
scuffle  of  his  with  a  drunken  guest.  The  tavern- 
keeper,  after  they  were  separated,  raved  like  a  mad 
man,  and  in  a  tone  of  voice  having  a  drolly  pathetic  or 
lamentable  sound  mingled  with  its  rage,  as  if  he  were 
lifting  up  his  voice  to  weep.  Then  he  jumped  into  a 
chaise  which  was  standing  by,  whipped  up  the  horse, 
and  drove  off  rapidly,  as  if  to  give  his  fury  vent  in 
that  way. 

On  the  morning  of  the  Fourth  of  July,  two  print 
er's  apprentice-lads,  nearly  grown,  dressed  in  jackets 
and  very  tight  pantaloons  of  check,  tight  as  their 
skins,  so  that  they  looked  like  harlequins  or  circus- 
clowns,  yet  appeared  to  think  themselves  in  perfect 
propriety,  with  a  very  calm  and  quiet  assurance  of  the 
admiration  of  the  town.  A  common  fellow,  a  carpen 
ter,  who,  on  the  strength  of  political  partisanship, 

asked  B 's  assistance  in  cutting  out  great  letters 

from  play-bills  in  order  to  print  "  Martin  Van  Buren 

Forever  "  on  a  flag ;  but  B refused.  B seems 

to  be  considerably  of  a  favorite  with  the  lower  orders, 
especially  with  the  Irishmen  and  French  Canadians^ 
—  the  latter  accosting  him  in  the  street,  and  asking 
his  assistance  as  an  interpreter  in  making  their  bar 
gains  for  work. 

I  meant  to  dine  at  the  hotel  with  B to-day ;  but 

Having  returned  to  the  house,  leaving  him  to  do  some 
business  in  the  village,  I  found  myself  unwilling  to 
move  when  the  dinner-hour  approached,  and  therefore 
dined  very  well  on  bread,  cheese,  and  eggs.  Nothing 


TOL.  IX. 


50  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837. 

of  much  interest  takes  place.  We  live  very  comfort 
ably  in  our  bachelor  establishment  on  a  cold  shoulder 
of  mutton,  with  ham  and  smoked  beef  and  boiled 
eggs ;  and  as  to  drinkables,  we  had  both  claret  and 
brown  sherry  on  the  dinner-table  to-day.  Last  even- 
ing  we  had  a  long  literary  and  philosophical  conversa 
tion  with  Monsieur  S .  He  is  rather  remarkably 

well-informed  for  a  man  of  his  age,  and  seems  to  have 
very  just  notions  on  ethics,  etc.,  though  damnably  per- 
verted  as  to  religion.  It  is  strange  to  hear  philosophy 
of  any  sort  from  such  a  boyish  figure.  "  We  philos 
ophers,"  he  is  fond  of  saying,  to  distinguish  himself 
and  his  brethren  from  the  Christians.  One  of  his  odd 
ities  is,  that,  while  steadfastly  maintaining  an  opin 
ion  that  he  is  a  very  small  and  slow  eater,  and  that 
we,  in  common  with  other  Yankees,  eat  immensely  and 
fast,  he  actually  eats  both  faster  and  longer  than  we 

do,  and  devours,  as  B avers,  more  victuals  than 

both  of  us  together. 

Saturday,  July  8th.  —  Yesterday  afternoon,  a  stroll 

with  B up  a  large  brook,  he  fishing  for  trout,  and 

I  looking  on.  The  brook  runs  through  a  valley,  on 
one  side  bordered  by  a  high  and  precipitous  bank  ;  on 
the  other  there  is  an  interval,  and  then  the  bank  rises 
upward  and  upward  into  a  high  hill,  with  gorges  and 
ravines  separating  one  summit  from  another,  and  here 
and  there  are  bare  places,  where  the  rain-streams  have 
washed  away  the  grass.  The  brook  is  bestrewn  with 
stones,  some  bare,  some  partially  moss-grown,  and 
sometimes  so  huge  as  —  once  at  least  —  to  occupy  al 
most  the  whole  breadth  of  the  current.  Amongst 
these  the  stream  brawls,  only  that  this  word  does  not 
express  its  good-natured  voice,  and  "  murmur  "  is  totf 


J837.J  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  51 

quiet.  It  sings  along,  sometimes  smooth,  with  the 
pebbles  visible  beneath,  sometimes  rushing  dark  and 
swift,  eddying  and  whitening  past  some  rock,  or  un 
derneath  the  hither  or  the  farther  bank  ;  and  at  these 

places  B cast  his  line,  and  sometimes  drew  out  a 

trout,  small,  not  more  than  five  or  six  inches  long. 
The  farther  we  went  up  the  brook,  the  wilder  it  grew. 
The  opposite  bank  was  covered  with  pines  and  hem 
locks,  ascending  high  upwards,  black  and  solemn. 
One  knew  that  there  must  be  almost  a  precipice  be 
hind,  yet  we  could  not  see  it.  At  the  foot  you  could 
spy,  a  little  way  within  the  darksome  shade,  the  roots 
and  branches  of  the  trees  ;  but  soon  all  sight  was  ob 
structed  amidst  the  trunks.  On  the  hither  side,  at  first 
the  bank  was  bare,  then  fringed  with  alder-bushes, 
bending  and  dipping  into  the  stream,  which,  farthei 
on,  flowed  through  the  midst  of  a  forest  of  maple, 
beech,  and  other  trees,  its  course  growing  wilder  and 
wilder  as  we  proceeded.  For  a  considerable  distance 
there  was  a  causeway,  built  long  ago  of  logs,  to  drag 
lumber  upon ;  it  was  now  decayed  and  rotten,  a  red 
decay,  sometimes  sunken  down  in  the  midst,  here  and 
there  a  knotty  trunk  stretching  across,  apparently 
sound.  The  sun  being  now  low  towards  the  west,  a 
pleasant  gloom  and  brightness  were  diffused  through 
the  forest,  spots  of  brightness  scattered  upon  the 
branches,  or  thrown  down  in  gold  upon  the  last  year's 
leaves  among  the  trees.  At  last  we  came  to  where  a 
dam  had  been  built  across  the  brook  many  years  ago, 
and  was  now  gone  to  ruin,  so  as  to  make  the  spot  look 
more  solitary  and  wilder  than  if  man  had  never  left 
vestiges  of  his  toil  there.  It  was  a  framework  of  logs, 
with  a  covering  of  plank  sufficient  to  obstruct  the  on 
ward  flow  of  the  brook ;  but  it  found  its  way  past  the 


52  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS,  [1337. 

side,  and  came  foaming  and  struggling  along  among 
scattered  rocks.  Above  the  dam  there  was  a  broad 
and  deep  pool,  one  side  of  which  was  bordered  by  a 
precipitous  wall  of  rocks,  as  smooth  as  if  hewn  out 
and  squared,  and  piled  one  upon  another,  above  which 
rose  the  forest.  On  the  other  side  there  was  still  a 
gently  shelving  bank,  and  the  shore  was  covered  with 
tall  trees,  among  which  I  particularly  remarked  a 
stately  pine,  wholly  devoid  of  bark,  rising  white  in 
aged  and  majestic  ruin,  thrusting  out  its  barkless  arms. 
It  must  have  stood  there  in  death  many  years,  its  own 
ghost.  Above  the  dam  the  brook  flowed  through  the 
forest,  a  glistening  and  babbling  water-path,  illumi 
nated  by  the  sun,  which  sent  its  rays  almost  straight 
along  its  course.  It  was  as  lovely  and  wild  and  peace 
ful  as  it  could  possibly  have  been  a  hundred  years 
ago ;  and  the  traces  of  labors  of  men  long  departed 
added  a  deeper  peace  to  it.  I  bathed  in  the  pool, 
and  then  pursued  my  way  down  beside  the  brook, 
growing  dark  with  a  pleasant  gloom,  as  the  sun  sank 
and  the  water  became  more  shadowy.  B  says 

that  there  was  formerly  a  tradition  that  the  Indians 
used  to  go  up  this  brook,  and  return,  after  a  brief  ab 
sence,  with  large  masses  of  lead,  which  they  sold  at 
the  trading-stations  in  Augusta  ;  whence  there  has  al 
ways  been  an  idea  that  there  is  a  lead-mine  here 
abouts.  Great  toadstools  were  under  the  trees,  and 
some  small  ones  as  yellow  and  almost  the  size  of  a 
half-broiled  yolk  of  an  egg.  Strawberries  were  scat 
tered  along  the  brookside. 

Dined  at  the  hotel  or  Mansion  House  to-day.  Men 
were  playing  checkers  in  the  parlor.  The  Marshal  of 
Maine,  a  corpulent,  jolly  fellow,  famed  for  humor.  A 
passenger  left  by  the  stage,  hiring  an  express  onward 
A  bottle  of  champagne  was  quaffed  at  the  bar. 


18* V)  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  53 

July  Qth.  —  Went  with  B to  pay  a  visit  to  the 

shanties  of  the  Irish  and  Canadians.  He  says  that 
they  sell  and  exchange  these  small  houses  among 
themselves  continually.  They  may  be  built  in  three 
or  four  days,  and  are  valued  at  four  or  five  dollars. 
When  the  turf  that  is  piled  against  the  walls  of  some 
of  them  becomes  covered  with  grass,  it  makes  quite  a 
picturesque  object.  It  was  almost  dusk  —  just  can 
dle-lighting  time  —  when  we  visited  them.  A  young 
Frenchwoman,  with  a  baby  in  her  arms,  came  to  the 
door  of  one  of  them,  smiling,  and  looking  pretty  and 
happy.  Her  husband,  a  dark,  black-haired,  lively  lit 
tle  fellow,  caressed  the  child,  laughing  and  singing  to 
it ;  and  there  was  a  red-bearded  Irishman,  who  like 
wise  fondled  the  little  brat.  Then  we  could  hear  them 
within  the  hut,  gabbling  merrily,  and  could  see  them 
moving  about  briskly  in  the  candle-light,  through  the 
window  and  open  door.  An  old  Irishwoman  sat  in 
the  door  of  another  hut,  under  the  influence  of  an 
extra  dose  of  rum,  —  she  being  an  old  lady  of  some 
what  dissipated  habits.  She  called  to  B ,  and  be 
gan  to  talk  to  him  about  her  resolution  not  to  give 
up  her  house :  for  it  is  his  design  to  get  her  out  of  it. 
She  is  a  true  virago,  and,  though  somewhat  restrained 
by  respect  for  him,  she  evinced  a  sturdy  design  to  re 
main  here  through  the  winter,  or  at  least  for  a  con 
siderable  time  longer.  He  persisting,  she  took  hei 
stand  in  the  doorway  of  the  hut,  and  stretched  out  her 
fist  in  a  very  Amazonian  attitude.  "  Nobody,"  quoth 
she,  "  shall  drive  me  out  of  this  house,  till  my  praties 
are  out  of  the  ground."  Then  would  she  wheedle  and 
laugh  and  blarney,  beginning  in  a  rage,  and  ending  as 
if  she  had  been  in  jest.  Meanwhile  her  husband  stood 
by  very  quiet,  occasionally  trying  to  still  her ;  but  it 


54  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837. 

is  to  be  presumed,  that,  after  our  departure,  they  came 
to  blows,  it  being  a  custom  with  the  Irish  husbands 
and  wives  to  settle  their  disputes  with  blows ;  and  it 
is  said  the  woman  often  proves  the  better  man.  The 
different  families  also  have  battles,  and  occasionally 
the  Irish  fight  with  the  Canadians.  The  latter,  how 
ever,  are  much  the  more  peaceable,  never  quarrelling 
among  themselves,  and  seldom  with  their  neighbors. 
They  are  frugal,  and  often  go  back  to  Canada  with 

considerable  sums  of  money.     B has  gained  much 

influence  both  with  the  Irish  and  the  French,  —  with 
the  latter,  by  dint  of  speaking  to  them  in  their  own 
language.  He  is  the  umpire  in  their  disputes,  and 
their  adviser,  and  they  look  up  to  him  as  a  protector 
and  patron-friend.  I  have  been  struck  to  see  with 
what  careful  integrity  and  wisdom  he  manages  matters 
among  them,  hitherto  having  known  him  only  as  a  free 
and  gay  young  man.  He  appears  perfectly  to  under 
stand  their  general  character,  of  which  he  gives  no 
very  flattering  description.  In  these  huts,  less  than 
twenty  feet  square,  he  tells  me  that  upwards  of  twenty 
people  have  sometimes  been  lodged. 

A  description  of  a  young  lady  who  had  formerly 
been  insane,  and  now  felt  the  approach  of  a  new  fit  of 
madness.  She  had  been  out  to  ride,  had  exerted  her 
self  much,  and  had  been  very  vivacious.  On  her  re 
turn,  she  sat  down  in  a  thoughtful  and  despondent 
attitude,  looking  very  sad,  but  one  of  the  loveliest  ob 
jects  that  ever  were  seen.  The  family  spoke  to  her, 
but  she  made  no  answer,  nor  took  the  least  notice; 
but  still  sat  like  a  statue  in  her  chair,  —  a  statue  of 
melancholy  and  beauty.  At  last  they  led  her  away  ta 
her  chamber. 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  &> 

We  went  to  meeting  this  forenoon.  I  saw  nothing 
remarkable,  unless  a  little  girl  in  the  next  pew  to  us, 
three  or  four  years  old,  who  fell  asleep,  with  her  head 
in  the  lap  of  her  maid,  and  looked  very  pretty :  a  pic 
ture  of  sleeping  innocence. 

July  HtfA,  Tuesday.  —  A  drive  with  B to  Hal 
lo  well,  yesterday,  where  we  dined,  and  afterwards  to 
Gardiner.  The  most  curious  object  in  this  latter  place 

was  the  elegant  new  mansion  of .  It  stands  on 

the  site  of  his  former  dwelling,  which  was  destroyed 
by  fire.  The  new  building  was  estimated  to  cist  about 
thirty  thousand  dollars ;  but  twice  as  much  has  al 
ready  been  expended,  and  a  great  deal  more  will  be 
required  to  complete  it.  It  is  certainly  a  splendid 
structure ;  the  material,  granite  from  the  vicinity.  At 
the  angles  it  has  small,  circular  towers ;  the  portal  is 
lofty  and  imposing.  Relatively  to  the  general  style  of 
domestic  architecture  in  our  country,  it  well  deserves 
the  name  of  castle  or  palace.  Its  situation,  too,  is 
fine,  far  retired  from  the  public  road,  and  attainable 
by  a  winding  carriage-drive;  standing  amid  fertile 
fields,  and  with  large  trees  in  the  vicinity.  There  is 
also  a  beautiful  view  from  the  mansion,  adown  tho 
Kennebec. 

Beneath  some  of  the  large  trees  we  saw  the  remains 
of  circular  seats,  whereupon  the  family  used  to  sit  be 
fore  the  former  house  was  burned  down.  There  was 
no  one  now  in  the  vicinity  of  the  place,  save  a  man 
and  a  yoke  of  oxen ;  and  what  he  was  about,  I  did  not 

ascertain.  Mr.  at  present  resides  in  a  small 

dwelling,  little  more  than  a  cottage,  beside  the  main 
road,  not  far  from  the  gateway  which  gives  access  to 
his  palace. 


56  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837. 

At  Gardiner,  on  the  wharf,  I  witnessed  the  starting 
of  the  steamboat  New  England  for  Boston.  There 
was  quite  a  collection  of  people,  looking  on  or  taking 
leave  of  passengers,  —  the  steam  puffing,  —  stages  ar 
riving,  full-freighted  with  ladies  and  gentleman.  A 
man  was  one  moment  too  late ;  but  running  along  the 
gunwale  of  a  mud-scow,  and  jumping  into  a  skiff,  he 
was  put  on  board  by  a  black  fellow.  The  dark  cabin, 
wherein,  descending  from  the  sunshiny  deck,  it  *vas 
difficult  to  discern  the  furniture,  looking-glasses^  and 
mahogany  wainscoting.  I  met  two  old  college  ac 
quaintances,  —  O ,  who  was  going  to  Boston,  and 

B ,  with  whom  we  afterwards  drank  a  glass  of 

wine  at  the  hotel. 

B ,  Mons.  S ,  and  myself  continue  to  live  in 

the  same  style  as  heretofore.  We  appear  mutually  to 

be  very  well  pleased  with  each  other.  Mons.  S 

displays  many  comical  qualities,  and  manages  to  in 
sure  us  several  hearty  laughs  every  morning  and  even 
ing,  —  those  being  the  seasons  when  we  meet.  I  am 
going  to  take  lessons  from  him  in  the  pronunciation 
of  French.  Of  female  society  I  see  nothing.  The 
only  petticoat  that  comes  within  our  premises  apper 
tains  to  Nancy,  the  pretty,  dark-eyed  maid-servant  of 
the  man  who  lives  in  the  other  part  of  the  house. 

On  the  road  from  Hallowell  to  Augusta  we  saw 
little  booths,  in  two  places,  erected  on  the  roadside, 
where  boys  offered  beer,  apples,  etc.,  for  sale.  We 
passed  an  Irishwoman  with  a  child  in  her  arms,  and  a 
heavy  bundle,  and  afterwards  an  Irishman  with  a  light 
bundle,  sitting  by  the  highway.  They  were  husband 

and  wife ;  and  B says  that  an  Irishman  and  his 

wife,  on  their  journeys,  do  not  usually  walk  side  by 
side,  but  that  the  man  gives  the  woman  the  heaviest 
burden  to  carry,  and  walks  on  lightly  ahead  I 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  57 

A  thought  comes  into  my  mind  :  Which  sort  of 
house  excites  the  most  contemptuous  feelings  in  the 
beholder,  —  such  a  house  as  Mr.  -  's,  all  circum 
stances  considered,  or  the  board-built  and  turf-but 
tressed  hovels  of  these  wild  Irish,  scattered  about  as 
if  they  had  sprung  up  like  mushrooms,  in  the  dells 
and  gorges,  and  along  the  banks  of  the  river  ?  Mush 
rooms,  by  the  way,  spring  up  where  the  roots  of  an 
old  tree  are  hidden  under  the  ground. 


Thursday,  July  13£A.  —  Two  small  Canadian  boys 
came  to  our  house  yesterday,  with  strawberries  to  sell. 
It  sounds  strangely  to  hear  children  bargaining  in 
French  on  the  borders  of  Yankee-land.  Among  other 
languages  spoken  hereabouts  must  be  reckoned  the 
wild  Irish.  Some  of  the  laborers  on  the  mill-dam  can 
speak  nothing  else.  The  intermixture  of  foreigners 
sometimes  gives  rise  to  quarrels  between  them  and  the 
natives.  As  we  were  going  to  the  village  yesterday 
afternoon,  we  witnessed  the  beginning  of  a  quarrel 
between  a  Canadian  and  a  Yankee,  —  the  latter  accus 
ing  the  former  of  striking  his  oxen.  B  -  thrust 
himself  between  and  parted  them  ;  but  they  after 
wards  renewed  their  fray,  and  the  Canadian,  I  be 
lieve,  thrashed  the  Yankee  soundly  —  for  which  he 
had  to  pay  twelve  dollars.  Yet  he  was  but  a  little 
fellow. 

Coming  to  the  Mansion  House  about  supper-time, 
we  found  somewhat  of  a  concourse  of  people,  the  Gov 
ernor  and  Council  being  in  session  on  the  subject  of 
the  disputed  territory.  The  British  have  lately  im 
prisoned  a  man  who  was  sent  to  take  the  census  ;  and 
the  Mainiacs  are  much  excited  on  the  subject.  They 
wish  the  Governor  to  order  out  the  militia  at  once, 


58  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837. 

and  take  possession  of  the  territory  with  the  strong 
hand.  There  was  a  British  army-captain  at  the  Man 
sion  House ;  and  an  idea  was  thrown  out  that  it  would 
be  as  well  to  seize  upon  him  as  a  hostage.  I  would, 
for  the  joke's  sake,  that  it  had  been  done.  Person 
ages  at  the  tavern :  the  Governor,  somewhat  stared 
after  as  he  walked  through  the  bar-room  ;  Councillors 
seated  about,  sitting  on  benches  near  the  bar,  or  on 
the  stoop  along  the  front  of  the  house;  the  Adjutant- 
General  of  the  State ;  two  young  Blue-Noses,  from 
Canada  or  the  Provinces ;  a  gentleman  "  thumbing  his 
hat  "  for  liquor,  or  perhaps  playing  off  the  trick  of  the 
"  honest  landlord  "  on  some  stranger.  The  decanters 
and  wine-bottles  on  the  move,  and  the  beer  and  soda 
founts  pouring  out  continual  streams,  with  a  whiz. 
Stage-drivers,  etc.,  asked  to  drink  with  the  aristoc 
racy,  and  my  host  treating  and  being  treated.  Rubi 
cund  faces ;  breaths  odorous  of  brandy-and-water.  Oc 
casionally  the  pop  of  a  champagne  cork. 

Returned  home,  and  took  a  lesson  in  French  of 
Mons.  S .  I  like  him  very  much,  and  have  sel 
dom  met  with  a  more  honest,  simple,  and  apparently 
BO  well-principled  a  man  ;  which  good  qualities  I  im 
pute  to  his  being,  by  the  father's  side,  of  German 
blood.  He  looks  more  like  a  German  —  or,  as  he 
says,  like  a  Swiss  —  than  a  Frenchman,  having  very 
light  hair  and  a  light  complexion,  and  not  a  French 
expression.  He  is  a  vivacious  little  fellow,  and  won 
derfully  excitable  to  mirth  ;  and  it  is  truly  a  sight  to 
see  him  laugh ;  —  every  feature  partakes  of  his  move 
ment,  and  even  his  whole  body  shares  in  it,  as  he  rises 
and  dances  about  the  room.  He  has  great  variety  of 
conversation,  commensurate  with  his  experiences  in 
life,  and  sometimes  will  talk  Spanish,  ore  rotunda,  — 


i&37.J  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  59 

sometimes  imitate  the  Catholic  priests,  chanting  Latin 
songs  for  the  dead,  in  deep,  gruff,  awful  tones,  pro 
ducing  really  a  very  strong  impression,  —  then  he  will 
break  out  into  a  light,  French  song,  perhaps  of  love, 
perhaps  of  war,  acting  it  out,  as  if  on  the  stage  of  a 
theatre :  all  this  intermingled  with  continual  fun,  ex 
cited  by  the  incidents  of  the  passing  moment.  He  has 
Frenchified  all  our  names,  calling  B^**V  Monsieur 
Du  Pont,  myself  M.  de  L'Aubepine,  and  himself  M, 
le  Berger,  and  all,  Knights  of  the  Round-Table.  And 
we  live  in  great  harmony  and  brotherhood,  as  queer  a 
life  as  anybody  leads,  and  as  queer  a  set  as  may  be 
found  anywhere.  In  his  more  serious  intervals,  he 
talks  philosophy  and  deism,  and  preaches  obedience 
to  the  law  of  reason  and  morality  ;  which  law  he  says 
(and  I  believe  him)  he  has  so  well  observed,  that,  not 
withstanding  his  residence  in  dissolute  countries,  he 
has  never  yet  been  sinful.  He  wishes  me,  eight  or 
nine  weeks  hence,  to  accompany  him  on  foot  to  Que 
bec,  and  then  to  Niagara  and  New  York.  I  should 
like  it  well,  if  my  circumstances  and  other  consider 
ations  would  permit.  What  pleases  much  in  Mons. 

S is  the  simple  and  childlike  enjoyment  he  finds 

in  trifles,  and  the  joy  with  which  he  speaks  of  going 
back  to  his  own  country,  away  from  the  dull  Yankees, 
who  here  misunderstand  and  despise  him.  Yet  I  have 
never  heard  him  speak  harshly  of  them.  I  rather 

think  that  B and  I  will  be  remembered  by  him 

with  more  pleasure  than  anybody  else  in  the  country ; 
for  we  have  sympathized  with  him,  and  treated  him 
kindly,  and  like  a  gentleman  and  an  equal ;  and  he 
comes  to  us  at  night  as  to  home  and  friends. 

I  went  down  to  the  river  to-day  to  sec  B fish 

for  salmon  with  a  flys  —  a  hopeless  business  j  for  he 


60  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837. 

says  that  only  one  instance  has  been  known  in  the 
United  States  of  salmon  being  taken  otherwise  than 
with  a  net.  A  few  chubs  were  all  the  fruit  of  his  pis 
catory  efforts.  But  while  looking  at  the  rushing  and 
rippling  stream,  I  saw  a  great  fish,  some  six  feet  long 
and  thick  in  proportion,  suddenly  emerge  at  whole 
length,  turn  a  somerset,  and  then  vanish  again  be 
neath  the  water.  It  was  of  a  glistening,  yellowish 
brown,  with  its  fins  all  spread,  and  looking  very 
strange  and  startling,  darting  out  so  lifelike  from  the 
black  water,  throwing  itself  fully  into  the  bright  sun 
shine,  and  then  lost  to  sight  and  to  pursuit.  I  saw 
also  a  long,  flat-bottomed  boat  go  up  the  river,  with  a 
brisk  wind,  and  against  a  strong  stream.  Its  sails 
were  of  curious  construction :  a  long  mast,  with  two 
sails  below,  one  on  each  side  of  the  boat,  and  a  broader 
one  surmounting  them.  The  sails  were  colored  brown, 
and  appeared  like  leather  or  skins,  but  were  really 
cloth.  At  a  distance,  the  vessel  looked  like,  or  at 
least  I  compared  it  to,  a  monstrous  water-insect  skim 
ming  along  the  river.  If  the  sails  had  been  crimson 
or  yellow,  the  resemblance  would  have  been  much 
closer.  There  was  a  pretty  spacious  raised  cabin  in 
the  after  part  of  the  boat.  It  moved  along  lightly, 
and  disappeared  between  the  woody  banks.  These 
boats  have  the  two  parallel  sails  attached  to  the  same 
yard,  and  some  have  two  sails,  one  surmounting  the 
other.  They  trade  to  Waterville  and  thereabouts,  — 
names,  as  "  Paul  Pry,"  on  their  sails. 

Saturday,  July  ~L5th.  —  Went  with  B yester* 

day  to  visit  several  Irish  shanties,  endeavoring  to  find 
out  who  had  stolen  some  rails  of  a  fence.  At  the  first 
door  at  which  we  knocked  (a  shanty  with  an  earthen 


£837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  61 

mound  heaped  against  the  wall,  two  or  three  feet 
thick),  the  inmates  were  not  up,  though  it  was  past 
eight  o'clock.  At  last  a  middle-aged  woman  showed 
herself,  half  dressed,  and  completing  her  toilet. 
Threats  were  made  of  tearing  down  her  house ;  for 
she  is  a  lady  of  very  indifferent  morals,  and  sells  rum. 
Few  of  these  people  are  connected  with  the  mill-dam, 
—  or,  at  least,  many  are  not  so,  but  have  intruded 
themselves  into  the  vacant  huts  which  were  occupied 
by  the  mill-dam  people  last  year.  In  two  or  three 
places  hereabouts  there  is  quite  a  village  of  these 
dwellings,  with  a  clay  and  board  chimney,  or  oftener 
an  old  barrel,  smoked  and  charred  with  the  fire. 
Some  of  their  roofs  are  covered  with  sods,  and  appear 
almost  subterranean.  One  of  the  little  hamlets  stands 
on  both  sides  of  a  deep  dell,  wooded  and  bush-grown, 
with  a  vista,  as  it  were,  into  the  heart  of  a  wood  in 
one  direction,  and  to  the  broad,  sunny  river  in  the 
other :  there  was  a  little  rivulet,  crossed  by  a  plank, 
at  the  bottom  of  the  dell.  At  two  doors  we  saw  very 
pretty  and  modest-looking  young  women,  —  one  with 
a  child  in  her  arms.  Indeed,  they  all  have  innumer 
able  little  children ;  and  they  are  invariably  in  good 
health,  though  always  dirty  of  face.  They  come  to 
the  door  while  their  mothers  are  talking  with  the  vis 
itors,  standing  straight  up  on  their  bare  legs,  with 
their  little  plump  bodies  protruding,  in  one  hand  a 
email  tin  saucepan,  and  in  the  other  an  iron  spoon, 
with  unwashed  mouths,  looking  as  independent  as  any  i 
child  or  grown  person  in  the  land.  They  stare  un 
abashed,  but  make  no  answer  when  spoken  to.  "  I  'vft 

no   call  to   your   fence,   Misser   B ."     It   seema 

strange  that  a  man  should  have  the  right,  unarmed 
with  any  legal  instrument,  of  tearing  down  the  dwellr 


62  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837, 

ing-houses  of  a  score  of  families,  and  driving  the  in« 
mates  forth  without  a  shelter.  Yet  B undoubt 
edly  has  this  right ;  and  it  is  not  a  little  striking  to 
see  how  quietly  these  people  contemplate  the  probabil 
ity  of  his  exercising  it,  —  resolving,  indeed,  to  burrow 
in  their  holes  as  long  as  may  be,  yet  caring  about  as 
little  for  an  ejectment  as  those  who  could  find  a  tene 
ment  anywhere,  and  less.  Yet  the  women,  amid  all 
the  trials  of  their  situation,  appear  to  have  kept  up 
the  distinction  between  virtue  and  vice ;  those  who 
can  claim  the  former  will  not  associate  with  the  latter. 
When  the  women  travel  with  young  children,  they 
carry  the  baby  slung  at  their  backs,  and  sleeping 
quietly.  The  dresses  of  the  new-comers  are  old-fash 
ioned,  making  them  look  aged  before  their  time. 

Monsieur  S shaving  himself  yesterday  morning. 

He  was  in  excellent  spirits,  and  could  not  keep  his 
tongue  or  body  still  more  than  long  enough  to  make 
two  or  three  consecutive  strokes  at  his  beard.  Then 
he  would  turn,  flourishing  his  razor  and  grimacing  joy 
ously,  enacting  droll  antics,  breaking  out  into  scraps 
and  verses  of  drinking-songs,  " A  boire  !  a  boire  !  "  — 
then  laughing  heartily,  and  crying,  "  Vive  la  gait£  !  " 
—  then  resuming  his  task,  looking  into  the  glass  with 
grave  face,  on  which,  however,  a  grin  would  soon 
break  out  anew,  and  all  his  pranks  woidd  be  repeated 
with  variations.  He  turned  this  foolery  to  philosophy, 
by  observing  that  mirth  contributed  to  goodness  of 
heart,  and  to  make  us  love  our  fellow-creatures.  Con 
versing  with  him  in  the  evening,  he  affirmed,  with  evi 
dent  belief  in  the  truth  of  what  he  said,  that  he  would 
have  no  objection,  except  that  it  would  be  a  very  fool 
ish  thing,  to  expose  his  whole  heart,  his  whole  inner 
man,  to  the  view  of  the  world.  Not  that  there  would 


1837.1  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  63 

not  be  much  evil  discovered  there ;  but,  as  he  waa 
conscious  of  being  in  a  state  of  mental  and  moral  im 
provement,  working  out  his  progress  onward,  he  would 
not  shrink  from  such  a  scrutiny.     This  talk  was  in 
troduced  by  his   mentioning  the   "  Minister's   Black 
Veil,'*   which   he   said   he  had   seen   translated   into 
French,  as  an  exercise,  by  a  Miss  Appleton  of  Bangor. 
Saw  by  the  river-side,  late  in  the  afternoon,  one  of 
the  above-described  boats  going  into  the  stream  with 
the  water  rippling  at  the  prow,  from  the  strength  of 
the  current  and  of  the  boat's  motion.   By  and  by  comes 
down  a  raft,  perhaps  twenty  yards  long,  guided  by  two 
men,  one  at  each  end,  —  the  raft  itself  of  boards  sawed 
at  Waterville,  and  laden  with  square  bundles  of  shin 
gles  and  round   bundles  of  clapboards.      "  Friend," 
says  one  man,  "  how  is  the  tide  now  ?  "  —  this  being 
important  to  the  onward  progress.     They  make  fast 
to  a  tree,  in  order  to  wait  for  the  tide  to  rise  a  little 
higher.     It  would  be  pleasant  enough  to  float  down 
the  Kennebec  on  one  of  these  rafts,  letting  the  river 
conduct  you  onward  at  its  own  pace,  leisurely  display 
ing  to  you  all  the  wild  or  ordered  beauties  along  its 
banks,  and  perhaps   running   you   aground  in   some 
peculiarly  picturesque  spot,  for  your  longer  enjoyment 
of  it.     Another  object,  perhaps,  is  a  solitary  man  pad 
dling  himself  down  the  river  in  a  small  canoe,  the 
light,  lonely  touch  of  his  paddle  in  the  water  making 
the  silence  seem  deeper.     Every  few  minutes  a  stur~ 
geon  leaps  forth,  sometimes  behind  you,  so  that  you 
merely  hear  the  splash,  and,  turning  hastily  around, 
see  nothing  but  the  disturbed  water.     Sometimes  he 
darts  straight  on  end  out  of   a  quiet  black  spot  on 
which  your  eyes  happen  to  be  fixed,  and,  when  even 
his  tail  is  clear  of  the  surface,  he  falls  down  on  his 
side  and  disappears. 


64  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837. 

On  the  river -bank,  an  Irishwoman  washing  some 
clothes,  surrounded  by  her  children,  whose  babbling 
sounds  pleasantly  along  the  edge  of  the  shore;  and 
she  also  answers  in  a  sweet,  kindly,  and  cheerful 
voice,  though  an  immoral  woman,  and  without  the  cer 
tainty  of  bread  or  shelter  from  day  to  day.  An  Irish 
man  sitting  angling  on  the  brink  with  an  alder  pole 
and  a  clothes-line.  At  frequent  intervals,  the  scene 
is  suddenly  broken  by  a  loud  report  like  thunder,  roll 
ing  along  the  banks,  echoing  and  reverberating  afar. 
It  is  a  blast  of  rocks.  Along  the  margin,  sometimes 
sticks  of  timber  made  fast,  either  separately  or  several 
together ;  stones  of  some  size,  varying  the  pebbles  and 
sand  ;  a  clayey  spot,  where  a  shallow  brook  runs  into 
the  river,  not  with  a  deep  outlet,  but  finding  its  way 
across  the  bank  in  two  or  three  single  runlets.  Look 
ing  upward  into  the  deep  glen  whence  it  issues,  you 
see  its  shady  current.  Elsewhere,  a  high  acclivity, 
with  the  beach  between  it  and  the  river,  the  ridge 
broken  and  caved  away,  so  that  the  earth  looks  fresh 
and  yellow,  and  is  penetrated  by  the  nests  of  birds, 
^.n  old,  shining  tree-trunk,  half  in  and  half  out  of  the 
water.  An  island  of  gravel,  long  and  narrow,  in  the 
centre  of  the  river.  Chips,  blocks  of  wood,  slabs,  and 
other  scraps  of  lumber,  strewed  along  the  beach  ;  logs 
drifting  down.  The  high  bank  covered  with  various 
trees  and  shrubbery,  and,  in  one  place,  two  or  three 
Irish  shanties. 

Thursday,  July  2Qth.  —  A  drive  yesterday  after 
noon  to  a  pond  in  the  vicinity  of  Augusta,  about  nine 
miles  off,  to  fish  for  white  perch.  Remarkables  :  the 
steering  of  the  boat  through  the  crooked,  labyrinthine 
brook,  into  the  open  pond,  —  tho  man  who  acted  at 


1837,]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  66 

pilot,  —  his   talking  with  B about  politics,  the 

bank,  the  iron  money  of  "  a  king  who  came  to  reign, 
in  Greece,  over  a  city  called  Sparta,"  —  his  advice  to 
B — —  to  come  amongst  the  laborers  on  the  mill-dam, 
because  it  stimulated  them  "  to  see  a  man  grinning 
amongst  them."  The  man  took  hearty  tugs  at  a  bottle 
of  good  Scotch  whiskey,  and  became  pretty  merry. 
The  fish  caught  were  the  yellow  perch,  which  are  not 
esteemed  for  eating ;  the  white  perch,  a  beautiful, 
silvery,  round-backed  fish,  which  bites  eagerly,  runs 
about  with  the  line  while  being  pulled  up,  makes  good 
sport  for  the  angler,  and  an  admirable  dish ;  a  great 
chub ;  and  three  horned  pouts,  which  swallow  the  hook 
into  their  lowest  entrails.  Several  dozen  fish  were 
taken  in  an  hour  or  two,  and  then  we  returned  to  the 
shop  where  we  had  left  our  horse  and  wagon,  the  pilot 
very  eccentric  behind  us.  It  was  a  small,  dingy  shop, 
dimly  lighted  by  a  single  inch  of  candle,  faintly  dis 
closing  various  boxes,  barrels  standing  on  end,  articles 
hanging  from  the  ceiling  ;  the  proprietor  at  the  coun 
ter,  whereon  appear  gin  and  brandy,  respectively  con 
tained  in  a  tin  pint-measure  and  an  earthenware  jug 
with  two  or  three  tumblers  beside  them,  out  of  which 
nearly  all  the  party  drank ;  some  coming  up  to  the  coun 
ter  frankly,  others  lingering  in  the  background,  wait 
ing  to  be  pressed,  two  paying  for  their  own  liquor  and 

withdrawing.     B treated  them  twice  round.    The 

pilot,  after  drinking  his  brandy,  gave  a  history  of  our 
fishing  expedition,  and  how  many  and  how  large  fish 
we  caught.  B making  acquaintances  and  renew 
ing  them,  and  gaining  great  credit  for  liberality  and 
free-heartedness,  —  two  or  three  boys  looking  on  and 
listening  to  the  talk,  —  the  shopkeeper  smiling  behind 
his  counter,  with  the  tarnished  tin  scales  beside  him. 

VOL.   IX.  5 


G6  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS,  C1837. 

- —  the  inch  of  candle  burning  down  almost  to  extinc 
tion.  So  we  got  into  our  wagon,  with  the  fish,  and 
drove  to  Robinson's  tavern,  almost  five  miles  off, 
where  we  supped  and  passed  the  night.  In  the  bar 
room  was  a  fat  old  countryman  on  a  journe}^,  and  a 
quack  doctor  of  the  vicinity,  and  an  Englishman  witt 

a  peculiar  accent.     Seeing  B 's  jointed  and  brass^ 

mounted  fishing-pole,  he  took  it  for  a  theodolite,  and 
supposed  that  we  had  been  on  a  surveying  expedition. 
At  supper,  which  consisted  of  bread,  butter,  cheese, 
cake,  doughnuts  and  gooseberry-pie,  we  were  waited 
upon  by  a  tall,  very  tall  woman,  young  and  maiden- 
looking,  yet  with  a  strongly  outlined  and  determined 
face.  Afterwards  we  found  her  to  be  the  wife  of  mine 
host.  She  poured  out  our  tea,  came  in  when  we  rang 
the  table  -  bell  to  refill  our  cups,  and  again  retired. 
While  at  supper,  the  fat  old  traveller  was  ushered 
through  the  room  into  a  contiguous  bedroom.  My 
own  chamber,  apparently  the  best  in  the  house,  had 
its  walls  ornamented  with  a  small,  gilt-framed,  foot- 
square  looking-glass,  with  a  hair-brush  hanging  be 
neath  it ;  a  record  of  the  deaths  of  the  family  written 
on  a  black  tomb,  in  an  engraving,  where  a  father, 
mother,  and  child  were  represented  in  a  graveyard, 
weeping  over  said  tomb;  the  mourners  dressed  in 
black,  country-cut  clothes ;  the  engraving  executed  in 
Vermont.  There  was  also  a  wood  engraving  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence,  with  fac-similes  of  the 
autographs  ;  a  portrait  of  the  Empress  Josephine,  and 
another  of  Spring.  In  the  two  closets  of  this  cham 
ber  were  mine  hostess's  cloak,  best  bonnet,  and  go-to- 
meeting  apparel.  There  was  a  good  bed,  in  which  1 
slept  tolerably  well,  and,  rising  betimes,  ate  breakfast 
insisting  of  some  of  our  own  fish,  and  then  started 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  67 

for  Augusta.  The  fat  old  traveller  had  gone  off  with 
the  harness  of  our  wagon,  which  the  hostler  had  put 
on  to  his  horse  by  mistake.  The  tavern-keeper  gave 
us  his  own  harness,  and  started  in  pursuit  of  the  old 
man,  who  was  probably  aware  of  the  exchange,  and 
well  satisfied  with  it. 

Our  drive  to  Augusta,  six  or  seven  miles,  was  very 
pleasant,  a  heavy  rain  having  fallen  during  the  night, 
and  laid  the  oppressive  dust  of  the  day  before.  The 
road  lay  parallel  with  the  Kennebec,  of  which  we  oc 
casionally  had  near  glimpses.  The  country  swells  back 
from  the  river  in  hills  and  ridges,  without  any  interval 
of  level  ground ;  and  there  were  frequent  woods,  fill 
ing  up  the  valleys  or  crowning  the  summits.  The  land 
is  good,  the  farms  look  neat,  and  the  houses  comforta 
ble.  The  latter  are  generally  but  of  one  story,  but 
with  large  barns ;  and  it  was  a  good  sign,  that,  while 
we  saw  no  houses  unfinished  nor  out  of  repair,  one 
man  at  least  had  found  it  expedient  to  make  an  addi 
tion  to  his  dwelling.  At  the  distance  of  more  than 
two  miles,  we  had  a  view  of  white  Augusta,  with  its 
steeples,  and  the  State-House,  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  town.  Observable  matters  along  the  road  were 
the  stage,  —  all  the  dust  of  yesterday  brushed  off,  and 
no  new  dust  contracted,  —  full  of  passengers,  inside 
and  out;  among  them  some  gentlemanly  people  and 
pretty  girls,  all  looking  fresh  and  unsullied,  rosyt 
cheerful,  and  curious  as  to  the  face  of  the  country, 
the  faces  of  passing  travellers,  and  the  incidents  of 
their  journey ;  not  yet  damped,  in  the  morning  sun 
shine,  by  long  miles  of  jolting  over  rough  and  hilly 
roads,  —  to  compare  this  with  their  appearance  at 
midday,  and  as  they  drive  into  Bangor  at  dusk ;  — 
two  women  dashing  along  in  a  wagon,  and  with  a 


68  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837, 

child,  rattling  pretty  speedily  down  hill  ;  - —  people 
looking'  at  us  from  the  open  doors  and  windows ;  — 
the  children  staring  from  the  wayside ;  —  the  mowers 
stopping,  for  a  moment,  the  sway  of  their  scythes ;  — 
the  matron  of  a  family,  indistinctly  seen  at  some  dis 
tance  within  the  house,  her  head  and  shoulders  ap 
pearing  through  the  window,  drawing  her  handker* 
chief  over  her  bosom,  which  had  been  uncovered  tc 
give  the  baby  its  breakfast,  —  the  said  baby,  or  its 
immediate  predecessor,  sitting  at  the  door,  turning 
round  to  creep  away  on  all  fours ;  —  a  man  building 
a  flat-bottomed  boat  by  the  roadside  :  he  talked  with 
B about  the  Boundary  question,  and  swore  fer 
vently  in  favor  of  driving  the  British  "  into  hell's 
kitchen  "  by  main  force. 

Colonel  B ,  the  engineer  of  the  mill-dam,  is  now 

hers,  after  about  a  fortnight's  absence.  He  is  a  plain 
country  squire,  with  a  good  figure,  but  with  rather  a 
heavy  brow ;  a  rough  complexion ;  a  gait  stiff,  and  a 
general  rigidity  of  manner,  something  like  that  of  a 
schoolmaster.  He  originated  in  a  country  town,  and 
is  a  self-educated  man.  As  he  walked  down  the 
gravel-path  to-day,  after  dinner,  he  took  up  a  scythe, 
which  one  of  the  mowers  had  left  on  the  sward,  and 
began  to  mow,  with  quite  a  scientific  swing.  On  the 
coming  of  the  mower,  he  laid  it  down,  perhaps  a  little 
ashamed  of  his  amusement.  I  was  interested  in  this ; 
to  see  a  man,  after  twenty-five  years  of  scientific  oc 
cupation,  thus  trying  whether  his  arms  retained  their 
strength  and  skill  for  the  labors  of  his  youth,  —  mind 
ful  of  the  day  when  he  wore  striped  trousers,  and 
toiled  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  —  and  now  tasting  again, 
for  pastime,  this  drudgery  beneath  a  fervid  sun.  He 
stood  awhile,  looking  at  the  workmen,  and  then  went 
to  oversee  the  laborers  at  the  mill-dam. 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  69 

Monday,  July  Zktli.  —  I  bathed  in  the  river  on 
Thursday  evening,  and  in  the  brook  at  the  old  dam 
011  Saturday  and  Sunday,  —  the  former  time  at  noon. 
The  aspect  of  the  solitude  at  noon  was  peculiarly  im 
pressive,  there  being  a  cloudless  sunshine,  no  wind,  no 
rustling  of  the  forest-leaves,  no  waving  of  the  boughs, 
no  noise  but  the  brawling  and  babbling  of  the  stream, 
making  its  way  among  the  stones,  and  pouring  in  a 
little  cataract  round  one  side  of  the  mouldering  dam, 
Looking  up  the  brook,  there  was  a  long  vista,  —  now 
ripples,  now  smooth  and  glassy  spaces,  now  large 
rocks,  almost  blocking  up  the  channel  ;  while  the 
trees  stood  upon  either  side,  mostly  straight,  but  here 
and  there  a  branch  thrusting  itself  out  irregularly, 
and  one  tree,  a  pine,  leaning  over,  —  not  bending,  — 
but  leaning  at  an  angle  over  the  brook,  rough  and 
ragged ;  birches,  alders ;  the  tallest  of  all  the  trees 
an  old,  dead,  leafless  pine,  rising  white  and  lonely, 
though  closely  surrounded  by  others.  Along  the 
brook,  now  the  grass  and  herbage  extended  close  to 
the  water;  now  a  small,  sandy  beach.  The  wall  of 
rock  before  described  looking  as  if  it  had  been  hewn, 
but  with  irregular  strokes  of  the  workman,  doing  his 
job  by  rough  and  ponderous  strength,  —  now  chancing 
to  hew  it  away  smoothly  and  cleanly,  now  carelessly 
smiting,  and  making  gaps,  or  piling  on  the  slabs  of 
rock,  so  as  to  leave  vacant  spaces.  In  the  interstices 
grow  brake  and  broad-leaved  forest-grass.  The  trees 
that  spring  from  the  top  of  this  wall  have  their  roots 
pressing  close  to  the  rock,  so  that  there  is  no  soil 
between ;  they  cling  powerfully,  and  grasp  the  crag 
tightly  with  their  knotty  fingers.  The  trees  on  both 
sides  are  so  thick,  that  the  sight  and  the  thoughts 
are  almost  immediately  lost  among  confused  stems. 


70  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837. 

branches,  and  clustering  green  leaves,  —  a  narrow 
strip  of  bright  blue  sky  above,  the  sunshine  falling 
lustrously  down,  and  making  the  pathway  of  the  brook 
luminous  below.  Entering  among  the  thickets,  I  find 
the  soil  strewn  with  old  leaves  of  preceding  seasons, 
through  which  may  be  seen  a  black  or  dark  mould  ; 
the  roots  of  trees  stretch  frequently  across  the  path ; 
often  a  moss-grown  brown  log  lies  atlrwart,  and  when 
you  set  your  foot  down,  it  sinks  into  the  decaying  sub- 
stance,  —  into  the  heart  of  oak  or  pine.  The  leafy 
boughs  and  twigs  of  the  underbrush  enlace  themselves 
before  you,  so  that  you  must  stoop  your  head  to  pass 
under,  or  thrust  yourself  through  amain,  while  they 
sweep  against  your  face,  and  perhaps  knock  off  your 
hat.  There  are  rocks  mossy  and  slippery ;  sometimes 
you  stagger,  with  a  great  rustling  of  branches,  against 
a  clump  of  bushes,  and  into  the  midst  of  it.  From 
end  to  end  of  all  this  tangled  shade  goes  a  pathway 
scarcely  worn,  for  the  leaves  are  not  trodden  through, 
yet  plain  enough  to  the  eye,  winding  gently  to  avoid 
tree-trunks  and  rocks  and  little  hillocks.  In  the  more 
open  ground,  the  aspect  of  a  tall,  fire-blackened  stump, 
standing  alone,  high  up  on  a  swell  of  land,  that  rises 
gradually  from  one  side  of  the  brook,  like  a  monu 
ment.  Yesterday,  I  passed  a  group  of  children  ii? 
this  solitary  valley,  —  two  boys,  I  think,  and  two 
girls.  One  of  the  little  girls  seemed  to  have  suffered 
some  wrong  from  her  companions,  for  she  was  weep 
ing  and  complaining  violently.  Another  time,  I  came 
suddenly  on  a  small  Canadian  boy,  who  was  in  a  hol 
low  place,  among  the  ruined  logs  of  an  old  cause- 
way,  picking  raspberries, — lonely  among  bushes  and 
gorges,  far  up  the  wild  valley,  —  and  the  lonelier 
seemed  the  little  boy  for  the  bright  sunshine,  that 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  Tl 

showed  no  one  else  in  a  wide  space  of  view  except  him 
and  rne. 

Remarkable  items  :  the  observation  of  Mons.  S • 

when  B was  saying  something  against  the  charac 
ter  of  the  French  people,  —  "  You  ought  not  to  form 
an  unfavorable  judgment  of  a  great  nation  from  mean 
fellows  like  me,  strolling  about  in  a  foreign  country." 
I  thought  it  very  noble  thus  to  protest  against  anything 
discreditable  in  himself  personally  being  used  against 
the  honor  of  his  country.  He  is  a  very  singular  per 
son,  with  an  originality  in  all  his  notions  ;  —  not  that 
nobody  has  ever  had  such  before,  but  that  he  has 
thought  them  out  for  himself.  He  told  me  yester 
day  that  one  of  his  sisters  was  a  waiting-maid  in  the 
Rocher  de  Caucale.  He  is  about  the  sincerest  man  I 
ever  knew,  never  pretending  to  feelings  that  are  not 
in  him,  —  never  flattering.  His  feelings  do  not  seem 
to  be  warm,  though  they  are  kindly.  He  is  so  single- 
minded  that  he  cannot  understand  badinage,  but  takes 
*t  all  as  if  meant  in  earnest,  —  a  German  trait.  He 
^alues  himself  greatly  on  being  a  Frenchman,  though 
r»ll  his  most  valuable  qualities  come  from  Germany. 
His  temperament  is  cool  and  pure,  and  he  is  greatly 
delighted  with  any  attentions  from  the  ladies.  A  short 
time  since,  a  lady  gave  him  a  bouquet  of  roses  and 
pinks ;  he  capered  and  danced  and  sang,  put  it  in 
water,  and  carried  it  to  his  own  chamber;  but  he 
brought  it  out  for  us  to  see  and  admire  two  or  three 
times  a  day,  bestowing  on  it  all  the  epithets  of  admi 
ration  in  the  French  language,  —  "  tSuperbe  !  magni- 
fique  !  "  When  some  of  the  flowers  began  to  fade,  he 
made  the  rest,  with  others,  into  a  new  nosegay,  and 
consulted  us  whether  it  would  be  fit  to  give  to  another 
lady.  Contrast  this  French  foppery  with  his  solemn 


72  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837 

moods,  when  we  sat  in  the  twilight,  or  after  B  -  is 
abed,  talking  of  Christianity  and  Deism,  of  ways  of 
life,  of  marriage,  of  benevolence,  —  in  short,  of  all 
deep  matters  of  this  world  and  the  next.  An  evening 
or  two  since,  he  began  singing  all  manner  of  English 
songs,  —  such  as  Mrs.  Hemans's  "  Landing  of  the 
Pilgrims,"  "  Auld  Lang  Syne,"  and  some  of  Moore's, 
—  the  singing  pretty  fair,  but  in  the  oddest  tone  and 
accent.  Occasionally  he  breaks  out  with  scraps  from 
French  tragedies,  which  he  spouts  with  corresponding 
action.  He  generally  gets  close  to  me  in  these  dis 
plays  of  musical  and  histrionic  talent.  Once  he  of 
fered  to  magnetize  me  in  the  manner  of  Monsieur 


Wednesday,  July  26th.  —  Dined  at  Barker's  yes 
terday.  Before  dinner,  sat  with  several  other  persons 
in  the  stoop  of  the  tavern.  There  were  B  -  ,  J.  A. 
Chandler,  Clerk  of  the  Court,  a  man  of  middle  age  or 
beyond,  two  or  three  stage  people,  and,  near  by,  a 
negro,  whom  they  call  "  the  Doctor,"  a  crafty-looking 
fellow,  one  of  whose  occupations  is  nameless.  In  pres 
ence  of  this  goodly  company,  a  man  of  a  depressed, 
neglected  air,  a  soft,  simple  -  looking  fellow,  with  an 
anxious  expression,  in  a  laborer's  dress,  approached 
and  inquired  for  Mr.  Barker.  Mine  host  being  gone 
to  Portland,  the  stranger  was  directed  to  the  bar 
keeper,  who  stood  at  the  door.  The  man  asked  where 
he  should  find  one  Mary  Ann  Russell,  —  a  question 
which  excited  general  and  hardly  suppressed  mirth; 
for  the  said  Mary  Ann  is  one  of  a  knot  of  women  who 
were  routed  on  Sunday  evening  by  Barker  and  a  con 
stable.  The  man  was  told  that  the  black  fellow  would 
give  him  all  the  information  he  wanted.  The  blacl? 
fellow  asked,  — 


1837,]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  73 

*'  Do  you  want  to  see  her  ?  " 

Others  of  the  by-standers  or  by-sitters  put  various 
questions  as  to  the  nature  of  the  man's  business  with 
Mary  Ann.  One  asked,  — 

"  Is  she  your  daughter  ?  " 

"  Why,  a  little  nearer  than  that,  I  calkilate,"  said 
the  poor  devil. 

Here  the  mirth  was  increased,  it  being  evident  that 
the  woman  was  his  wife.  The  man  seemed  too  simple 
and  obtuse  to  comprehend  the  ridicule  of  his  situation, 
or  to  be  rendered  very  miserable  by  it.  Nevertheless, 
he  made  some  touching  points. 

"  A  man  generally  places  some  little  dependence  on 
his  wife,"  said  he,  "  whether  she 's  good  or  not." 

He  meant,  probably,  that  he  rests  some  affection  on 
her.  He  told  us  that  she  had  behaved  well,  till  com 
mitted  to  jail  for  striking  a  child  ;  and  I  believe  he 
was  absent  from  home  at  the  time,  and  had  not  seen 
her  since.  And  now  he  was  in  search  of  her,  intend 
ing,  doubtless,  to  do  his  best  to  get  her  out  of  her 
troubles,  and  then  to  take  her  back  to  his  home. 
Some  advised  him  not  to  look  after  her ;  others  recom 
mended  him  to  pay  "  the  Doctor  "  aforesaid  for  guid 
ing  him  to  her ;  which  finally  "  the  Doctor  "  did,  in 
consideration  of  a  treat ;  and  the  fellow  went  off,  hav 
ing  heard  little  but  gibes  and  not  one  word  of  sympa 
thy  !  I  would  like  to  have  witnessed  his  meeting  with 
his  wife. 

There  was  a  moral  picturesqueness  in  the  contrasts 
of  the  scene,  —  a  man  moved  as  deeply  as  his  nature 
would  admit,  in  the  midst  of  hardened,  gibing  specta 
tors,  heartless  towards  him.  It  is  worth  thinking  over 
and  studying  out.  He  seemed  rather  hurt  and  pricked 
by  the  jests  thrown  at  him,  yet  bore  it  patiently,  and 


74  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [18ST 

sometimes  almost  joined  in  the  laugh,  being  of  an 
easy,  unenergetic  temper. 

Hints  for  characters :  Nancy,  a  pretty,  black-eyed, 
intelligent  servant-girl,  living  in  Captain  H 's  fam 
ily.  She  comes  daily  to  make  the  beds  in  our  par*  of 
the  house,  and  exchanges  a  good-morning  with  mev  in 
a  pleasant  voice,  and  with  a  glance  and  smile, — some 
what  shy,  because  we  are  not  acquainted,  yet  capaMe 
of  being  made  conversable.  She  washes  once  a  week, 
and  may  be  seen  standing  over  her  tub,  with  her  hand 
kerchief  somewhat  displaced  from  her  white  ne<-k. 
because  it  is  hot.  Often  she  stands  with  her  b»re 

arms  in  the  water,  talking  with  Mrs.  H ,  or  lo«.*ks 

through  the  window,  perhaps,  at  B ,  or  somebody 

else  crossing  the  yard,  —  rather  thoughtfully,  but  soon 
smiling  or  laughing.  Then  goeth  she  for  a  pail  of 
water.  In  the  afternoon,  very  probably,  she  dressos 
herself  in  silks,  looking  not  only  pretty,  but  lady-lilte, 
and  strolls  round  the  house,  not  unconscious  that  some 
gentleman  may  be  staring  at  her  from  behind  the 
green  blinds.  After  supper,  she  walks  to  the  village. 
Morning  and  evening,  she  goes  a-milking.  And  thus 
passes  her  life,  cheerfully,  usefully,  virtuously,  with 
hopes,  doubtless,  of  a  husband  and  children.  —  Mrs. 

H is  a  particularly  plump,  soft-fleshed,  fair-corn-. 

plexioned,  comely  woman  enough,  with  rather  a  simple 
countenance,  not  nearly  so  piquant  as  Nancy's.  Her 
walk  has  something  of  the  roll  or  waddle  of  a  fat  wo 
man,  though  it  were  too  much  to  call  her  fat.  She 
seems  to  be  a  sociable  body,  probably  laughter-loving 

Captain  H himself  has  commanded  a  steamboat^ 

and  has  a  certain  knowledge  of  life. 

Query,  in  relation  to  the  man's  missing  wife,  ho\f 
much  desire  and  resolution  of  doing  her  duty  by  hei 


1887.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  75 


husband  can  a  wife  retain,  while  injuring  him  in  what 
is  deemed  the  most  essential  point  ? 

Observation.  The  effect  of  morning  sunshine  on 
the  wet  grass,  on  sloping  and  swelling  land,  between 
the  spectator  and  the  sun  at  some  distance,  as  across  a 
lawn.  It  diffused  a  dim  brilliancy  over  the  whole  sur 
face  of  the  field.  The  mists,  slow-rising  farther  off, 
part  resting  on  the  earth,  the  remainder  of  the  column 
already  ascending  so  high  that  you  doubt  whether  to 
call  it  a  fog  or  a  cloud. 

Friday,  July  ZSth.  —  Saw  my  classmate  and  for 

merly  intimate  friend,  ,  for  the  first  time  since 

we  graduated.  He  has  met  with  good  success  in  life, 
in  spite  of  circumstance,  having  struggled  upward 
against  bitter  opposition,  by  the  force  of  his  own  abili 
ties,  to  be  a  member  of  Congress,  after  having  been 
for  some  time  the  leader  of  his  party  in  the  State  Leg 
islature.  We  met  like  old  friends,  and  conversed  al 
most  as  freely  as  we  used  to  do  in  college  days,  twelve 
years  ago  and  more.  He  is  a  singular  person,  shrewc^ 
crafty,  insinuating,  with  wonderful  tact,  seizing  on 
each  man  by  his  manageable  point,  and  using  him  for 
his  own  purpose,  often  without  the  man's  suspecting 
that  he  is  made  a  tool  of;  and  yet,  artificial  as  his 
character  would  seem  to  be,  his  conversation,  at  least 
to  myself,  was  full  of  natural  feeling,  the  expression 
of  which  can  hardly  be  mistaken,  and  his  revelations 
with  regard  to  himself  had  really  a  great  deal  of  frank 
ness.  He  spoke  of  his  ambition,  of  the  obstacles  which 
he  had  encountered,  of  the  means  by  which  he  had 
overcome  them,  imputing  great  efficacy  to  his  personal 
intercourse  with  people,  and  his  study  of  their  charao 
ters ;  then  of  his  course  as  a  member  of  the  Legisla 


76  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837 

hire  and  Speaker,  and  his  style  of  speaking  and  its 
effects ;  of  the  dishonorable  things  which  had  been  im 
puted  to  him,  and  in  what  manner  he  had  repelled  the 
charges.  In  short,  he  would  seem  to  have  opened  him- 
self  very  freely  as  to  his  public  life.  Then,  as  to  his 
private  affairs,  he  spoke  of  his  marriage,  of  his  wife, 
his  children,  and  told  me,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  of  the 
death  of  a  dear  little  girl,  and  how  it  affected  him,  and 
how  impossible  it  had  been  for  him  to  believe  that  she 
was  really  to  die.  A  man  of  the  most  open  nature 
might  well  have  been  more  reserved  to  a  friend,  after 
twelve  years'  separation,  than was  to  me.  Never 
theless,  he  is  really  a  crafty  man,  concealing,  like  a 
murder-secret,  anything  that  it  is  not  good  for  him  to 
have  known.  He  by  no  means  feigns  the  good-feeling 
that  he  professes,  nor  is  there  anything  affected  in 
the  frankness  of  his  conversation ;  and  it  is  this  that 
makes  him  so  very  fascinating.  There  is  such  a  quan 
tity  of  truth  and  kindliness  and  warm  affections,  that 
a  man's  heart  opens  to  him,  in  spite  of  himself.  He 
deceives  by  truth.  And  not  only  is  he  crafty,  but, 
when  occasion  demands,  bold  and  fierce  as  a  tiger,  de 
termined,  and  even  straightforward  and  undisguised 
in  his  measures,  —  a  daring  fellow  as  well  as  a  sly 
one.  Yet.  notwithstanding  his  consummate  art,  the 
general  estimate  of  his  chiracter  seems  to  be  pretty 
just.  Hardly  anybody,  probably,  thinks  him  better 
than  he  is,  and  many  think  him  worse.  Nevertheless, 
if  no  overwhelming  discovery  of  rascality  be  made,  he 
will  always  possess  influence ;  though  I  should  hardly 
think  that  he  woiiLd  take  any  prominent  part  in 
Congress.  As  to  any  rascality,  I  rather  believe  that 
he  has  thought  out  for  himself  a  much  higher  system 
of  morality  than  any  natural  integrity  would  hav* 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  77 

prompted  him  to  adopt ;  that  he  has  seen  the  thorough 
advantage  of  morality  and  honesty ;  and  the  sentiment 
of  these  qualities  has  now  got  into  his  mind  and  spirit, 
and  pretty  well  impregnated  them.  I  believe  him  to 
be  about  as  honest  as  the  great  run  of  the  world,  with 
something  even  approaching  to  high-minded  ness.  Hia 
person  in  some  degree  accords  with  his  character,  — 
thin  and  with  a  thin  face,  sharp  features,  sallow,  a  pro 
jecting  brow  not  very  high,  deep-set  eyes,  an  insinuat 
ing  smile  and  look,  when  he  meets  you,  and  is  about 
to  address  you.  I  should  think  that  he  would  do  away 
with  this  peculiar  expression,  for  it  reveals  more  of 
himself  than  can  be  detected  in  any  other  way,  in  per 
sonal  intercourse  with  him.  Upon  the  whole,  I  have 

quite  a  good  liking  for  him,  and  mean  to  go  to 

to  see  him. 

Observation.  A  steam-engine  across  the  river,  which 
almost  continually  during  the  day,  and  sometimes  all 
night,  may  be  heard  puffing  and  panting,  as  if  it  ut 
tered  groans  for  being  compelled  to  labor  in  the  heat 
and  sunshine,  and  when  the  world  is  asleep  also. 

Monday,  July  31s£.  —  Nothing  remarkable  to  re 
cord.  A  child  asleep  in  a  young  lady's  arms,  —  a  lit 
tle  baby,  two  or  three  months  old.  Whenever  any 
thing  partially  disturbed  the  child,  as,  for  instance^ 
when  the  young  lady  or  a  by-stander  patted  its  cheek 
or  rubbed  its  chin,  the  child  would  smile ;  then  all  its 
dreams  seemed  to  be  of  pleasure  and  happiness.  At 
first  the  smile  was  so  faint,  that  I  doubted  whether  it 
were  really  a  smile  or  no ;  but,  on  further  efforts,  it 
brightened  forth  very  decidedly.  This,  without  open 
ing  its  eyes.  —  A  constable,  a  homely,  good-natured, 
business-looking  man,  with  a  warrant  against  an  Irish- 


78  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837, 

man's  wife  for  throwing  a  brick-bat  at  a  fellow.  He 
gave  good  advice  to  the  Irishman  about  the  best 
method  of  coming  easiest  through  the  affair.  Finally 
settled,  —  the  justice  agreeing  to  relinquish  his  fees, 
on  condition  that  the  Irishman  would  pay  for  the 
mending  of  his  old  boots  ! 

I  went  with  Monsieur  S yesterday  to  pick  rasp 

berries.  He  fell  through  an  old  log  bridge  thrown 
over  a  hollow ;  looking  back,  only  his  head  and  shoul 
ders  appeared  through  the  rotten  logs  and  among  the 
bushes.  —  A  shower  coming  on,  the  rapid  running  of 
a  little  barefooted  boy,  coming  up  unheard,  and  dash 
ing  swiftly  past  us,  and  showing  the  soles  of  his  naked 
feet  as  he  ran  adown  the  path,  and  up  the  opposite 
vise. 

Tuesday,  August  1st.  —  There  having  been  a  heavy 
rain  yesterday,  a  nest  of  chimney-swallows  was  washed 
down  the  chimney  into  the  fireplace  of  one  of  the  front 
rooms.  My  attention  was  drawn  to  them  by  a  most 
obstreperous  twittering ;  and  looking  behind  the  fire- 
board,  there  were  three  young  birds,  clinging  with 
their  feet  against  one  of  the  jambs,  looking  at  me, 
open-mouthed,  and  all  clamoring  together,  so  as  quite 
to  fill  the  room  with  the  short,  eager,  frightened  sound. 
The  old  birds,  by  certain  signs  upon  the  floor  of  the 
room,  appeared  to  have  fallen  victims  to  the  appetite 
of  the  cat.  I /a  belle  Nancy  provided  a  basket  filled 
with  cotton-wool,  into  which  the  poor  little  devils  were 
put ;  and  I  tried  to  feed  them  with  soaked  bread,  of 
which,  however,  they  did  not  eat  with  much  relish. 
Tom,  the  Irish  boy,  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  they 
were  not  old  enough  to  be  weaned.  I  hung  the  bas 
ket  out  of  the  window,  in  the  sunshine,  and  upon  look 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  79 

ing  in,  an  Lour  or  two  after,  found  that  two  of  the 
birds  had  escaped.  The  other  I  tried  to  feed,  and 
sometimes,  when  a  morsel  of  bread  was  thrust  into  its 
open  mouth,  it  would  swallow  it.  But  it  appeared  to 
suffer  very  much,  vociferating  loudly  when  disturbed, 
and  panting,  in  a  sluggish  agony,  with  eyes  closed,  or 
half  opened,  when  let  alone.  It  distressed  me  a  good 
deal;  and  I  felt  relieved,  though  somewhat  shocked, 

when  B put  an  end  to  its  misery  by  squeezing  its 

head  and  throwing  it  out  of  the  window.  They  were 
of  a  slate-color,  and  might,  I  suppose,  have  been  able 
to  shift  for  themselves.  —  The  other  day  a  little  yel 
low  bird  flew  into  one  of  the  empty  rooms,  of  which 
there  are  half  a  dozen  on  the  lower  floor,  and  could 
not  find  his  way  out  again,  flying  at  the  glass  of  the 
windows,  instead  of  at  the  door,  thumping  his  head 
against  the  panes  or  against  the  ceiling.  I  drove  him 
into  the  entry  and  chased  him  from  end  to  end,  en 
deavoring  to  make  him  fly  through  one  of  the  open 
doors.  He  would  fly  at  the  circular  light  over  the 
door,  clinging  to  the  casement,  sometimes  alighting  on 
one  of  the  two  glass  lamps,  or  on  the  cords  that  sus 
pended  them,  uttering  an  affrighted  and  melancholy 
cry  whenever  I  came  near  and  flapped  my  handker 
chief,  and  appearing  quite  tired  and  sinking  into  de 
spair.  At  last  he  happened  to  fly  low  enough  to  pass 
through  the  door,  and  immediately  vanished  into  the 
gladsome  sunshine.  —  Ludicrous  situation  of  a  man, 
drawing  his  chaise  down  a  sloping  bank,  to  wash  in 
the  river.  The  chaise  got  the  better  of  him,  and,  rush 
ing  downward  as  if  it  were  possessed,  compelled  hir 
to  run  at  full  speed,  and  drove  him  up  to  his  chin  int<> 
the  water.  A  singular  instance,  that  a  chaise 
run  away  with  a  man  without  a  horse ! 


80  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1887. 

Saturday  August  V^tJi.  —  Left  Augusta  a  week 

ago  this  morning  for .     Nothing  particular  in  oui 

drive  across  the  country.  Fellow-passenger,  a  Boston 
dry-goods  dealer,  travelling  to  collect  bills.  At  many 
of  the  country  shops  he  would  get  out,  and  show  his 
unwelcome  visage.  In  the  tavern,  prints  from  Scrip 
ture,  varnished  and  on  rollers,  —  such  as  the  Judg 
ment  of  Christ ;  also  a  droll  set  of  colored  engravings 
of  the  story  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  the  figures  being 
clad  in  modern  costume,  —  or,  at  least,  that  of  not 
more  than  half  a  century  ago.  The  father,  a  gravet 
clerical  person,  with  a  white  wig  and  black  broad 
cloth  suit ;  the  son,  with  a  cocked  hat  and  laced 
clothes,  drinking  wine  out  of  a  glass,  and  caressing  a 
woman  in  fashionable  dress.  At a  nice,  comfort 
able  boarding-house  tavern,  without  a  bar  or  any  sort 
of  wines  or  spirits.  An  old  lady  from  Boston,  with 
her  three  daughters,  one  of  whom  was  teaching  music, 
and  the  other  two  schoolmistresses.  A  frank,  free, 
mirthful  daughter  of  the  landlady,  about  twenty-four 
years  old,  between  whom  and  myself  there  immedi 
ately  sprang  up  a  flirtation,  which  made  us  both  feel 
rather  melancholy  when  we  parted  on  Tuesday  morn 
ing.  Music  in  the  evening,  with  a  song  by  a  rather 
pretty,  fantastic  little  mischief  of  a  brunette,  about 
eighteen  years  old,  who  has  married  within  a  year,  and 
spent  the  last  summer  in  a  trip  to  the  Springs  and 
elsewhere.  Her  manner  of  walking  is  by  jerks,  with 
a  quiver,  as  if  she  were  made  of  calves-feet  jelly.  I 

talk  with  everybody  :  to  Mrs.  T good  sense,  —  to 

Mary,  good  sense,  with  a  mixture  of  fun,  —  to  Mrs. 
G -,  sentiment,  romance,  and  nonsense. 

Walked  with to  see  General  Knox's  old  man- 

gion,  —  a  large,  rusty  -  looking  edifice  of  wood,  witlf 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  8i 

some  grandeur  in  the  architecture,  standing  on  the 
banks  of  the  river,  close  by  the  site  of  an  old  burial- 
ground,  and  near  where  an  ancient  fort  had  been 
erected  for  defence  against  the  French  and  Indians. 
General  Knox  once  owned  a  square  of  thirty  miles  in 
this  part  of  the  country,  and  he  wished  to  settle  it  in 
with  a  tenantry,  after  the  fashion  of  English  gentle 
men.  He  would  permit  no  edifice  to  be  erected  within 
a  certain  distance  of  his  mansion.  His  patent  covered, 
of  course,  the  whole  present  town  of  Waldoborough, 
and  divers  other  flourishing  commercial  and  coun 
try  villages,  and  would  have  been  of  incalculable  value 
could  it  have  remained  unbroken  to  the  present  time. 
But  the  General  lived  in  grand  style,  and  received 
throngs  of  visitors  from  foreign  parts,  and  was  obliged 
to  part  with  large  tracts  of  his  possessions,  till  now 
there  is  little  left  but  the  ruinous  mansion  and  the 
ground  immediately  around  it.  His  tomb  stands  near 
the  house,  —  a  spacious  receptacle,  an  iron  door  at  the 
end  of  a  turf-covered  mound,  and  surmounted  by  an 
obelisk  of  marble.  There  are  inscriptions  to  the  mem 
ory  of  several  of  his  family ;  for  he  had  many  children, 
all  of  whom  are  now  dead,  except  one  daughter,  a 

widow  of  fifty,  recently  married  to  Hon.  John  H . 

There  is  a  stone  fence  round  the  monument.  On  the 
outside  of  this  are  the  gravestones,  and  large,  flat 
tombstones  of  the  ancient  burial-ground,  —  the  tomb 
stones  being  of  red  freestone,  with  vacant  spaces,  for 
merly  inlaid  with  slate,  on  which  were  the  inscriptions, 
and  perhaps  coats  of  arms,  One  of  these  spaces  was 
in  the  shape  of  a  heart.  The  people  were  very  wrath 
ful  that  the  General  should  have  laid  out  his  grounds 
over  this  old  burial-place  ;  and  he  dared  never  throw 
down  the  gravestones,  tjiough  his  wife,  a  haughty  Eng 

TOL.  IX.  6 


82  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837. 

lish  lady,  often  teased  him  to  do  so.  But  when  the 
old  general  was  dead,  Lady  Knox  (as  they  called  her) 
caused  them  to  be  prostrated,  as  they  now  lie.  She 
was  a  woman  of  violent  passions,  and  so  proud  an  aris 
tocrat,  that,  as  long  as  she  lived,  she  would  never  enter 
any  house  in  the  town  except  her  own.  When  a  mar 
ried  daughter  was  ill,  she  used  to  go  in  her  carriage 
to  the  door  and  send  up  to  inquire  how  she  did.  The 
General  was  personally  very  popular ;  but  his  wife 
ruled  him.  The  house  and  its  vicinity,  and  the  whole 
tract  covered  by  Knox's  patent,  may  be  taken  as  an 
illustration  of  what  must  be  the  result  of  American 
schemes  of  aristocracy.  It  is  not  forty  years  since 
this  house  was  built,  and  Knox  was  in  his  glory  ;  but 
now  the  house  is  all  in  decay,  while  within  a  stone's- 
throw  of  it  there  is  a  street  of  smart  white  edifices  of 
one  and  two  stories,  occupied  chiefly  by  thriving  me 
chanics,  which  has  been  laid  out  where  Knox  meant 
to  have  forests  and  parks.  On  the  banks  of  the  river, 
where  he  intended  to  have  only  one  wharf  for  his  own 
West  Indian  vessels  and  yacht,  there  are  two  wharves, 
with  stores  and  a  lime-kiln.  Little  appertains  to  the 
mansion  except  the  tomb  and  the  old  burial  -  ground, 
and  the  old  fort. 

The  descendants  are  all  poor,  and  the  inheritance 
was  merely  sufficient  to  make  a  dissipated  and  drunken 
fellow  of  the  only  one  of  the  old  General's  sons  who 
survived  to  middle  age.  The  man's  habits  were  as 
bad  as  possible  as  long  as  he  had  any  money ;  but 
when  quite  ruined,  he  reformed.  The  daughter,  the 
only  survivor  among  Knox's  children  (herself  child- 
^ess),  is  a  mild,  amiable  woman,  therein  totally  differ 
ent  from  her  mother.  Knox,  when  he  first  visited  his 
estate,  arriving  in  a  vessel,  was  waived  upon  by  a  dep 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  83 

utation  of  the  squatters,  who  had  resolved  to  resist 
him  to  the  death.  He  received  them  with  genial  cour 
tesy,  made  them  dine  with  him  aboard  the  vessel,  and 
sent  them  back  to  their  constituents  in  great  love  and 
admiration  of  him.  He  used  to  have  a  vessel  running 
to  Philadelphia,  I  think,  and  bringing  him  all  sorts  of 
delicacies.  His  way  of  raising  money  was  to  give  a 
mortgage  on  his  estate  of  a  hundred  thousand  dollars 
at  a  time,  and  receive  that  nominal  amount  in  goods, 
which  he  would  immediately  sell  at  auction  for  per 
haps  thirty  thousand.  He  died  by  i  chicken-bone. 
Near  the  house  are  the  remains  of  a  covered  way,  by 
which  the  French  once  attempted  to  gam  admittance 
into  the  fort ;  but  the  work  caved  in  and  buried  a  good 
many  of  them,  and  the  rest  gave  up  the  siege.  There 
v^as  recently  an  old  inhabitant  living  who  remembered 
when  the  people  used  to  reside  in  the  fort. 

Owl's  Head,  —  a  watering  -  place,  terminating  a 
point  of  land,  six  or  seven  miles  from  Thomaston.  A 
long  island  shuts  out  the  prospect  of  the  sea.  Hither 
coasters  and  fishing-smacks  run  in  when  a  storm  is  an 
ticipated.  Two  fat  landlords,  both  young  men,  with 
something  of  a  contrast  in  their  dispositions :  one  of 
them  being  a  brisk,  lively,  active,  jesting,  fat  man  ;  the 
other  more  heavy  and  inert,  making  jests  sluggishly, 
if  at  all.  Aboard  the  steamboat,  Professor  Stuart  of 
Andover,  sitting  on  a  sofa  in  the  saloon,  generally  in 
conversation  with  some  person,  resolving  their  doubts 
on  one  point  or  another,  speaking  in  a  very  audible 
voice ;  and  strangers  standing  or  sitting  around  to 
hear  him.  as  if  he  were  an  ancient  apostle  or  philoso 
pher.  He  is  a  bulky  man,  with  a  large,  massive  face, 
particularly  calm  in  its  expression,  and  mild  enough  to 
be  pleasing.  When  not  otherwise  occupied,  he  reads, 


86  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837 

laminated  and  part  dark.  When  the  sunshine  falls 
on  a  very  distant  island,  nearer  ones  being  in  shade, 
it  seems  greatly  to  extend  the  bounds  of  visible  space, 
and  put  the  horizon  to  a  farther  distance.  The  sea 
roughly  rushing  against  the  shore,  and  dashing  against 
the  rocks,  and  grating  back  over  the  sands.  A  boat 
a  little  way  from  the  shore,  tossing  and  swinging  at 
anchor.  Beach  birds  flitting  from  place  to  place. 

The  family  seat  of  the  Hawthornes  is  Wigcastle, 
Wigton,  Wiltshire.  The  present  head  of  the  family, 
now  residing  there,  is  Hugh  Hawthorne.  William 
Hawthorne,  who  came  over  in  1635—36,  was  a  younger 
brother  of  the  family. 

A  young  man  and  girl  meet  together,  each  in  search 
of  a  person  to  be  known  by  some  particular  sign. 
They  watch  and  wait  a  great  while  for  that  person  to 
pass.  At  last  some  casual  circumstance  discloses  that 
each  is  the  one  that  the  other  is  waiting  for.  Moral, 
—  that  what  we  need  for  our  happiness  is  often  close 
at  hand,  if  we  knew  but  how  to  seek  for  it. 

The  journal  of  a  human  heart  for  a  single  day  in 
ordinary  circumstances.  The  lights  and  shadows  that 
flit  across  it ;  its  internal  vicissitudes. 

Distrust  to  be  thus  exemplified:  Various  good  and 
desirable  things  to  be  presented  to  a  young  man,  and. 
offered  to  his  acceptance,  —  as  a  friend,  a  wife,  a  fort 
une;  but  he  to  refuse  them  all,  suspecting  that  it  is 
merely  a  delusion.  Yet  all  to  be  real,  and  he  to  be 
told  so,  when  too  late. 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  87 

A  man  tries  to  be  happy  in  love ;  lie  cannot  sin 
cerely  give  his  heart,  and  the  affair  seems  all  a  dream. 
In  domestic  life,  the  same ;  in  politics,  a  seeming  pa 
triot  ;  but  still  he  is  sincere,  and  all  seems  like  a  the 
atre. 

An  old  man,  on  a  summer  day,  sits  on  a  hill-top,  or 
on  the  observatory  of  his  house,  and  sees  the  sun's 
light  pass  from  one  object  to  another  connected  with 
the  events  of  his  past  life,  —  as  the  school-house,  the 
place  where  his  wife  lived  in  her  maidenhood,  —  its 
setting  beams  falling  on  the  churchyard. 

An  idle  man's  pleasures  and  occupations  and 
thoughts  during  a  day  spent  by  the  sea-shore :  among 
them,  that  of  sitting  on  the  top  of  a  cliff,  and  throw 
ing  stones  at  his  own  shadow,  far  below. 

A  blind  man  to  set  forth  on  a  walk  through  ways 
unknown  to  him,  and  to  trust  to  the  guidance  of  any 
body  who  will  take  the  trouble ;  the  different  charac 
ters  who  would  undertake  it :  some  mischievous,  some 
well-meaning,  but  incapable ;  perhaps  one  blind  man 
undertakes  to  lead  another.  At  last,  possibly,  he  re 
jects  all  guidance,  and  blunders  on  by  himself. 

In  the  cabinet  of  the  Essex  Historical  Society,  old 
portraits.  —  Governor  Leverett;  a  dark  mustachioed 
face,  the  figure  two  thirds  length,  clothed  in  a  sort  of 
frock-coat,  buttoned,  and  a  broad  sword-belt  girded 
round  the  waist,  and  fastened  with  a  large  steel  buc 
kle  ;  the  hilt  of  the  sword  steel,  —  altogether  very 
striking.  Sir  William  Pepperell,  in  English  regi 
mentals,  coat,  waistcoat,  and  breeches,  all  of  red  broad- 


88  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837. 

cloth,  richly  gold-embroidered ;  he  holds  a  general's 
truncheon  in  his  right  hand,  and  extends  the  left  to 
wards  the  batteries  erected  against  Louisbourg,  in  the 
country  near  which  ho  is  standing.  Endicott,  Pyn- 
cheon,  and  others,  in  scarlet  robes,  bands,  etc.  Half 
a  dozen  or  more  family  portraits  of  the  Olivers,  some 
in  plain  dresses,  brown,  crimson,  or  claret ;  others  with 
gorgeous  gold-embroidered  waistcoats,  descending  al 
most  to  the  knees,  so  as  to  form  the  most  conspicuous 
article  of  dress.  Ladies,  with  lace  ruffles,  the  paint 
ing  of  which,  in  one  of  the  pictures,  cost  five  guineas. 
Peter  Oliver,  who  was  crazy,  used  to  fight  with  these 
family  pictures  in  the  old  Mansion  House ;  and  the; 
face  and  breast  of  one  lady  bear  cuts  and  stabs  in 
flicted  by  him.  Miniatures  in  oil,  with  the  paint  peel 
ing  off,  of  stern,  old,  yellow  faces.  Oliver  Cromwell, 
apparently  an  old  picture,  half  length,  or  one  third,  in 
an  oval  frame,  probably  painted  for  some  New  Eng 
land  partisan.  Some  pictures  that  had  been  partly 
obliterated  by  scrubbing  with  sand.  The  dresses,  em 
broidery,  laces  of  the  Oliver  family  are  generally  bet 
ter  done  than  the  faces.  Governor  Leverett's  gloves, 
—  the  glove  part  of  coarse  leather,  but  round  the 
wrist  a  deep,  three  or  four  inch  border  of  spangles 
and  silver  embroidery.  Old  drinking  -  glasses,  with 
tall  stalks.  A  black  glass  bottle,  stamped  with  the 
name  of  Philip  English,  with  a  broad  bottom.  The 
baby-linen,  etc.,  of  Governor  Bradford  of  Ptymouth 
County.  Old  manuscript  sermons,  some  written  in 
short-hand,  others  in  a  hand  that  seems  learnt  from 
print. 

Nothing  gives  a  stronger  idea  of  old  worm-eaten 
aristocracy  —  of  a  family  being  crazy  with  age,  and 
of  its  being  time  that  it  was  extinct  —  than  these 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  89 

black,  dusty,  faded,  antique-dressed  portraits,  such  as 
those  of  the  Oliver  family ;  the  identical  old  white  wig 
of  an  ancient  minister  producing  somewhat  the  im 
pression  that  his  very  scalp,  or  some  other  portion  of 
his  personal  self,  would  do. 

The  excruciating  agonies  which  Nature  inflicts  on 
men  (who  break  her  laws)  to  be  represented  as  the 
work  of  human  tormentors ;  as  the  gout,  by  screwing 
the  toes.  Thus  we  might  find  that  worse  than  the 
tortures  of  the  Spanish  Inquisition  are  daily  suffered 
without  exciting  notice. 

Suppose  a  married  couple  fondly  attached  to  one 
another,  and  to  think  that  they  lived  solely  for  one  an 
other  ;  then  it  to  be  found  out  that  they  were  divorced, 
or  that  they  might  separate  if  they  chose.  What 
would  be  its  effect  ? 

Monday,  August  27th.  —  Went  to  Boston  last 
Wednesday.  Remarkables  :  —  An  author  at  the 
American  Stationers'  Company,  slapping  his  hand  on 
his  manuscript,  and  crying,  "  I  'm  going  to  publish." 
—  An  excursion  aboard  a  steamboat  to  Thompson's 
Island,  to  visit  the  Manual  Labor  School  for  boys. 
Aboard  the  steamboat  several  poets  and  various  other 
authors ;  a  Commodore,  —  Colton,  a  small,  dark  brown, 
sickly  man,  with  a  good  deal  of  roughness  in  his  ad 
dress  ;  Mr.  Waterston,  talking  poetry  and  philosophy. 
Examination  and  exliibition  of  the  boys,  little  tanned 
agriculturists.  After  examination,  a  stroll  round  the 
island,  examining  the  products,  as  wheat  in  sheaves  on 
the  stubble-field;  oats,  somewhat  blighted  and  spoiled; 
great  pumpkins  elsewhere ;  pastures  :  mowing  ground 


90  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837, 

—  all  cultivated  by  the  boys.  Their  residence,  a  great 
brick  building,  painted  green,  and  standing  on  the 
summit  of  a  rising  ground,  exposed  to  the  winds  of 
the  bay.  Vessels  flitting  past ;  great  ships,  with  in 
tricacy  of  rigging  and  various  sails ;  schooners,  sloops, 
with  their  one  or  two  broad  sheets  of  canvas :  going 
on  different  tacks,  so  that  the  spectator  might  think 
that  there  was  a  different  wind  for  each  vessel,  or  that 
they  scudded  across  the  sea  spontaneously,  whither 
their  own  wills  led  them.  The  farm  boys  remain  in> 
sulated,  looking  at  the  passing  show,  within  sight  of 
the  city,  yet  having  nothing  to  do  with  it ;  beholding 
their  fellow-creatures  skimming  by  them  in  winged 
machines,  and  steamboats  snorting  and  puffing  through 
the  waves.  Methinks  an  island  would  be  the  most  de 
sirable  of  all  landed  property,  for  it  seems  like  a  little 
world  by  itself ;  and  the  water  may  answer  instead  of 
the  atmosphere  that  surrounds  planets.  The  boys 
swinging,  two  together,  standing  up,  and  almost  caus 
ing  the  ropes  and  their  bodies  to  stretch  out  horizon 
tally.  On  our  departure,  they  ranged  themselves  on 
the  rails  of  .the  fence,  and,  being  dressed  in  blue> 
looked  not  unlike  a  flock  of  pigeons. 

On  Friday,  a  visit  to  the  Navy  Yard  at  Charles 
town,  in  company  with  the  Naval  Officer  of  Boston, 
and  Cilley.  Dined  aboard  the  revenue-cutter  Hamil 
ton.  A  pretty  cabin,  finished  off  with  bird's-eye  maple 
and  mahogany ;  two  looking-glasses.  Two  officers  in 
blue  frocks,  with  a  stripe  of  lace  on  each  shoulder. 
Dinner,  chowder,  fried  fish,  corned  beef,  —  claret,  af 
terwards  champagne.  The  waiter  tells  the  Captain  of 
the  cutter  that  Captain  Percival  (Commander  of  the 
Navy  Yard)  is  sitting  on  the  deck  of  the  anchor  hoy 
C  which  lies  inside  of  the  cutter),  smoking  his  cigar 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  91 

The  captain  sends  him  a  glass  of  champagne,  and  in 
quires  of  the  waiter  what  Percival  says  of  it.  "  lie 
said,  sir,  4  What  does  he  send  me  this  damned  stuff 
for  ? '  but  drinks,  nevertheless."  The  Captain  char* 
acterizes  Percival  as  the  roughest  old  devil  that  ever 
was  in  his  manners,  but  a  kind,  good-hearted  man  at 
bottom.  By  and  by  comes  in  the  steward.  "Cap 
tain  Percival  is  coming  aboard  of  you,  sir."  "  Well, 
ask  him  to  walk  down  into  the  cabin  " ;  and  shortly 
down  comes  old  Captain  Percival,  a  white-haired,  thin- 
visaged,  weather-worn  old  gentleman,  in  a  blue,  Qua 
ker-cut  coat,  with  tarnished  lace  and  brass  buttons,  a 
pair  of  drab  pantaloons,  and  brown  waistcoat.  There 
was  an  eccentric  expression  in  his  face,  which  seemed 
partly  wilful,  partly  natural.  He  has  not  risen  to  his 
present  rank  in  the  regular  line  of  the  profession ;  but 
entered  the  navy  as  a  sailing-master,  and  has  all  the 
roughness  of  that  class  of  officers.  Nevertheless,  he 
knows  how  to  behave  and  to  talk  like  a  gentleman. 
Sitting  down,  and  taking  in  hand  a  glass  of  cham 
pagne,  he  began  a  lecture  on  economy,  and  how  well  it 
was  that  Uncle  Sam  had  a  broad  back,  being  compelled 
to  bear  so  many  burdens  as  were  laid  on  it,  —  alluding 
to  the  table  covered  with  wine-bottles.  Then  he  spoke 
of  the  fitting  up  of  the  cabin  with  expensive  woods, 
•-—  of  the  brooch  in  Captain  Scott's  bosom.  Then  he 
proceeded  to  discourse  of  politics,  taking  the  opposite 
side  to  Cilley,  and  arguing  with  much  pertinacity.  He 
seems  to  have  moulded  and  shaped  himself  to  his  own 
whims,  till  a  sort  of  rough  affectation  has  become 
thoroughly  imbued  throughout  a  kindly  nature.  He  is 
full  of  antique  prejudices  against  the  modern  fashions 
of  the  younger  officers,  their  mustaches  and  such  frip 
peries,  and  prophesies  little  better  than  disgrace  ID 


90  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837 

—  all  cultivated  by  the  boys.  Their  residence,  a  great 
brick  building,  painted  green,  and  standing  on  the 
summit  of  a  rising  ground,  exposed  to  the  winds  of 
the  bay.  Vessels  flitting  past ;  great  ships,  with  in 
tricacy  of  rigging  and  various  sails ;  schooners,  sloops, 
with  their  one  or  two  broad  sheets  of  canvas :  going 
on  different  tacks,  so  that  the  spectator  might  think 
that  there  was  a  different  wind  for  each  vessel,  or  that 
they  scudded  across  the  sea  spontaneously,  whither 
their  own  wills  led  them.  The  farm  boys  remain  in> 
sulated,  looking  at  the  passing  show,  within  sight  of 
the  city,  yet  having  nothing  to  do  with  it;  beholding 
their  fellow-creatures  skimming  by  them  in  winged 
machines,  and  steamboats  snorting  and  puffing  through 
the  waves.  Methinks  an  island  would  be  the  most  de 
sirable  of  all  landed  property,  for  it  seems  like  a  little 
world  by  itself ;  and  the  water  may  answer  instead  of 
the  atmosphere  that  surrounds  planets.  The  boys 
swinging,  two  together,  standing  up,  and  almost  caus 
ing  the  ropes  and  their  bodies  to  stretch  out  horizon 
tally.  On  our  departure,  they  ranged  themselves  on 
the  rails  of  .the  fence,  and,  being  dressed  in  blue> 
looked  not  unlike  a  flock  of  pigeons. 

On  Friday,  a  visit  to  the  Navy  Yard  at  Charles 
town,  in  company  with  the  Naval  Officer  of  Boston, 
and  Cilley.  Dined  aboard  the  revenue-cutter  Hamil 
ton.  A  pretty  cabin,  finished  off  with  bird's-eye  maple 
and  mahogany ;  two  looking-glasses.  Two  officers  in 
blue  frocks,  with  a  stripe  of  lace  on  each  shoulder. 
Dinner,  chowder,  fried  fish,  corned  beef,  —  claret,  af 
terwards  champagne.  The  waiter  tells  the  Captain  of 
the  cutter  that  Captain  Percival  (Commander  of  the 
Navy  Yard)  is  sitting  on  the  deck  of  the  anchor  hoy 
t which  lies  inside  of  the  cutter),  smoking  his  cigar 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  91 

The  captain  sends  him  a  glass  of  champagne,  and  in 
quires  of  the  waiter  what  Percival  says  of  it.  "  lie 
said,  sir,  '  What  does  he  send  me  this  damned  stuff 
for?'  but  drinks,  nevertheless."  The  Captain  char 
acterizes  Percival  as  the  roughest  old  devil  that  ever 
was  in  his  manners,  but  a  kind,  good-hearted  man  at 
bottom.  By  and  by  comes  in  the  steward.  "Cap 
tain  Percival  is  coming  aboard  of  you,  sir."  "  Well, 
ask  him  to  walk  down  into  the  cabin  " ;  and  shortly 
down  conies  old  Captain  Percival,  a  white-haired,  thin- 
visaged,  weather-worn  old  gentleman,  in  a  blue,  Qua 
ker-cut  coat,  with  tarnished  lace  and  brass  buttons,  a 
pair  of  drab  pantaloons,  and  brown  waistcoat.  There 
was  an  eccentric  expression  in  his  face,  which  seemed 
partly  wilful,  partly  natural.  He  has  not  risen  to  his 
present  rank  in  the  regular  line  of  the  profession ;  but 
entered  the  navy  as  a  sailing-master,  and  has  all  the 
roughness  of  that  class  of  officers.  Nevertheless,  he 
knows  how  to  behave  and  to  talk  like  a  gentleman. 
Sitting  down,  and  taking  in  hand  a  glass  of  cham 
pagne,  he  began  a  lecture  on  economy,  and  how  well  it 
was  that  Uncle  Sam  had  a  broad  back,  being  compelled 
to  bear  so  many  burdens  as  were  laid  on  it,  —  alluding 
to  the  table  covered  with  wine-bottles.  Then  he  spoke 
of  the  fitting  up  of  the  cabin  with  expensive  woods, 
•-—  of  the  brooch  in  Captain  Scott's  bosom.  Then  he 
proceeded  to  discourse  of  politics,  taking  the  opposite 
side  to  Cilley,  and  arguing  with  much  pertinacity.  He 
seems  to  have  moulded  and  shaped  himself  to  his  own 
whims,  till  a  sort  of  rough  affectation  has  become 
thoroughly  imbued  throughout  a  kindly  nature.  He  is 
full  of  antique  prejudices  against  the  modern  fashions 
of  the  younger  officers,  their  mustaches  and  such  frip 
peries,  and  prophesies  little  better  than  disgrace  in 


92  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [183V, 

case  of  another  war ;  owning  that  the  boys  would  fight 
for  their  country,  and  die  for  her,  but  denying  that 
there  are  any  officers  now  like  Hull  and  Stewart,  whose 
exploits,  nevertheless,  he  greatly  depreciated,  saying 
that  the  Boxer  and  Enterprise  fought  the  only  equal 
battle  which  we  won  during  the  war;  and  that,  in 
that  action,  an  officer  had  proposed  to  haul  down  the 
Stars  and  Stripes,  and  a  common  sailor  threatened  to 
cut  him  to  pieces  if  he  should  do  so.  He  spoke  of 
Bainbridge  as  a  sot  and  a  poltroon,  who  wanted  to 
run  from  the  Macedonian,  pretending  to  take  her  for 
a  line-of-battle  ship ;  of  Commodore  Elliot  as  a  liar ; 
but  praised  Commodore  Downes  in  the  highest  terms. 
Percival  seems  to  be  the  very  pattern  of  old  integrity ; 
taking  as  much  care  of  Uncle  Sam's  interests  as  if  all 
the  money  expended  were  to  come  out  of  his  own 
pocket.  This  quality  was  displayed  in  his  resistance 
to  the  demand  of  a  new  patent  capstan  for  the  reve 
nue-cutter,  which,  however,  Scott  is  resolved  in  such  a 
sailor-like  way  to  get,  that  he  will  probably  succeed. 
Percival  spoke  to  me  of  how  his  business  in  the  yard 
absorbed  him,  especially  the  fitting  of  the  Columbus, 
seventy-four,  of  which  ship  he  discoursed  with  great 
enthusiasm.  He  seems  to  have  no  ambition  beyond 
his  present  duties,  perhaps  never  had  any ;  at  any 
rate,  he  now  passes  his  life  with  a  sort  of  gruff  con- 
tentedness,  grumbling  and  growling,  yet  in  good  hu 
mor  enough.  He  is  conscious  of  his  peculiarities ;  for 
when  I  asked  him  whether  it  would  be  well  to  make  a 
naval  officer  Secretary  of  the  Navy,  he  said,  "  God 
forbid,  for  that  an  old  sailor  was  always  full  of  preju 
dices  and  stubborn  whim-whams,"  instancing  himself ; 
whereto  I  agreed.  We  went  round  the  Navy  Yard 
with  Percival  and  Commodore  Downes,  the  latter  a 


18S7.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  93 

sailor  and  a  gentleman  too,  with  rather  more  of  the 
ocean  than  the  drawing-room  about  him,  but  courte 
ous,  frank,  and  good  -  natured.  We  looked  at  rope- 
walks,  rigging-lofts,  ships  in  the  stocks ;  and  saw  the 
sailors  of  the  station  laughing  and  sporting  with  great 
mirth  and  cheerfulness,  which  the  Commodore  said  was 
mut h  increased  at  sea.  We  returned  to  the  wharf  at 
Boston  in  the  cutter's  boat.  Captain  Scott,  of  the 
cutter,  told  me  a  singular  story  of  what  occurred  dur 
ing  the  action  between  the  Constitution  and  Macedo 
nian, —  he  being  powder-monkey  aboard  the  former 
ship.  A  cannon-shot  came  through  the  ship's  side, 
and  a  man's  head  was  struck  off,  probably  by  a  splin 
ter,  for  it  was  done  without  bruising  the  head  or  body, 
as  clean  as  by  a  razor.  Well,  the  man  was  walking 
pretty  briskly  at  the  time  of  the  accident ;  and  Scott 
seriously  affirmed  that  he  kept  walking  onward  at  the 
same  pace,  with  two  jets  of  blood  gushing  from  his 
headless  trunk,  till,  after  going  about  twenty  feet  with 
out  a  head,  he  sunk  down  at  once,  with  his  legs  under 
him. 

[In  corroboration  of  the  truth  of  this,  see  Lord  Ba 
con,  Century  IV.  of  his  "  Sylva  Sylvarum,"  or  Nat 
ural  History,  in  Ten  Centuries,  paragraph  400.] 

On  Saturday,  I  called  to  see  E.  H ,  having  pre 
viously  appointed  a  meeting  for  the  purpose  of  inquir 
ing  about  our  name.  He  is  an  old  bachelor,  and  truly 
forlorn.  The  pride  of  ancestry  seems  to  be  his  great 
hobby.  He  had  a  good  many  old  papers  in  his  desk 
at  the  Custom  House,  which  he  produced  and  disser 
tated  upon,  and  afterwards  went  with  me  to  his  sis 
ter's,  and  showed  me  an  old  book,  with  a  record  of  the 
children  of  the  first  emigrant  (who  came  over  two 
hundred  years  ago),  in  his  own  handwriting.  E *9 


94  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837. 

manners  are  gentlemanly,  and  he  seems  to  be  very 
well  informed.  At  a  little  distance,  I  think,  one  would 
take  him  to  be  not  much  over  thirty ;  but  nearer  at 
hand  one  finds  him  to  look  rather  venerable,  —  per 
haps  fifty  or  more.  He  is  nervous,  and  his  hands 
shook  while  he  was  looking  over  the  papers,  as  if  he 
had  been  startled  by  my  visit ;  and  when  we  came  to 
the  crossings  of  streets,  he  darted  across,  cautioning 
me,  as  if  both  were  in  great  danger  to  be  run  overc 
Nevertheless,  being  very  quick-tempered,  he  would  face 
the  Devil  if  at  all  irritated.  He  gave  a  most  forlorn 
description  of  his  life ;  how,  when  he  came  to  Salem, 

there  was  nobody  except  Mr.  whom  he  cared 

about  seeing;  how  his  position  prevented  him  from 
accepting  of  civilities,  because  he  had  no  home  where 
he  could  return  them ;  in  short,  he  seemed  ab^ut  as 
miserable  a  being  as  is  to  be  found  anywhere,  —  1-inely, 
and  with  sensitiveness  to  feel  his  loneliness,  and  ca 
pacities,  now  withered,  to  have  enjoyed  the  sweets  of 
life.  I  suppose  he  is  comfortable  enough  when  busied 
in  his  duties  at  the  Custom  House ;  for  when  I  spoke 
to  him  at  my  entrance,  he  was  too  much  absorbed  to 
hear  me  at  first.  As  we  walked,  he  kept  telling  sto 
ries  of  the  family,  which  seemed  to  have  comprised 
many  oddities,  eccentric  men  and  women,  recluses  and 
other  kinds,  —  one  of  old  Philip  English  (a  Jersey 
man,  the  name  originally  I/ Anglais),  who  had  been 
persecuted  by  John  Hawthorne,  of  witch-time  mem 
ory,  and  a  violent  quarrel  ensued.  When  Philip  lay 
on  his  death-bed,  he  consented  to  forgive  his  persecu 
tor  ;  "  But  if  I  get  well,"  said  he,  "  I  '11  be  damned  if 
I  forgive  him ! "  This  Philip  left  daughters,  one  of 
yhom  married,  I  believe,  the  son  of  the  persecuting 
John,  and  thus  all  the  legitimate  blood  of  English  is 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  95 

in  our  family.     E passed  from  the  matters  of 

birth,  pedigree,  and  ancestral  pride  to  give  vent  to  the 
most  arrant  democracy  and  locofocoism  that  I  ever 
happened  to  hear,  saying  that  nobody  ought  to  pos 
sess  wealth  longer  than  his  own  life,  and  that  then  it 

should  return  to  the  people,  etc.     He  says  S.  I 

has  a  great  fund  of  traditions  about  the  family,  which 
she  learned  from  her  mother  or  grandmother  (I  for 
get  which),  one  of  them  being  a  Hawthorne.  The  old 

lady  was  a  very  proud  woman,  and,  as  E says, 

14  proud  of  being  proud,"  and  so  is  S.  I . 

October  7th.  —  A  walk  in  Northfields  in  the  after 
noon.  Bright  sunshine  and  autumnal  warmth,  giving 
a  sensation  quite  unlike  the  same  degree  of  warmth  in 
summer.  Oaks,  —  some  brown,  some  reddish,  some 
still  green ;  walnuts,  yellow,  —  fallen  leaves  and  acorns 
lying  beneath ;  the  footsteps  crumple  them  in  walk 
ing.  In  sunny  spots  beneath  the  trees,  where  green 
grass  is  overstrewn  by  the  dry,  fallen  foliage,  as  I 
passed,  I  disturbed  multitudes  of  grasshoppers  bask 
ing  in  the  warm  sunshine  ;  and  they  began  to  hop,  hop, 
hop,  pattering  on  the  dry  leaves  like  big  and  heavy 
drops  of  a  thunder-shower.  They  were  invisible  tiD 
they  hopped.  Boys  gathering  walnuts.  Passed  aii 
orchard,  where  two  men  were  gathering  the  apples. 
A  wagon,  with  barrels,  stood  among  the  trees ;  the 
men's  coats  flung  on  the  fence  ;  the  apples  lay  in 
heaps,  and  each  of  the  men  was  up  in  a  separate  tree. 
They  conversed  together  in  loud  voices,  which  the  air 
caused  to  ring  still  louder,  jeering  each  other,  boast 
ing  of  their  own  feats  in  shaking  down  the  apples. 
One  got  into  the  very  top  of  his  tree,  and  gave  a  long 
and  mighty  shake,  and  the  big  apples  came  down 


96  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1887. 

thump,  thump,  bushels  hitting  on  the  ground  at  once. 
u  There  !  did  you  ever  hear  anything  like  that?  "  cried 
he,  This  sunny  scene  was  pretty.  A  horse  feeding 
apart,  belonging  to  the  wagon.  The  barberry-bushes 
have  some  red  fruit  on  them,  but  they  are  frost-bitten. 
The  rose-bushes  have  their  scarlet  hips. 

Distant  clumps  of  trees,  now  that  the  variegated  fo 
liage  adorns  them,  have  a  phantasmagorian,  an  appa 
rition-like  appearance.  They  seem  to  be  of  some  kin 
dred  to  the  crimson  and  gold  cloud-islands.  It  would 
not  be  strange  to  see  phantoms  peeping  forth  from 
their  recesses.  When  the  sun  was  almost  below  the 
horizon,  his  rays,  gilding  the  upper  branches  of  a  yel 
low  walnut-tree,  had  an  airy  and  beautiful  effect,  — 
the  gentle  contrast  between  the  tint  of  the  yellow  in 
the  shade  and  its  ethereal  gold  in  the  fading  sunshine. 
The  woods  that  crown  distant  uplands  were  seen  to 
great  advantage  in  these  last  rays,  for  the  sunshine 
perfectly  marked  out  and  distinguished  every  shade  of 
color,  varnishing  them  as  it  were ;  while  the  country 
round,  both  hill  and  plain,  being  in  gloomy  shadow 
the  woods  looked  the  brighter  for  it. 

The  tide,  being  high,  had  flowed  almost  into  the 
Cold  Spring,  so  its  small  current  hardly  issued  forth 
from  the  basin.  As  I  approached,  two  little  eels, 
about  as  long  as  my  finger,  and  slender  in  proportion, 
wriggled  out  of  the  basin.  They  had  come  from  the 
salt  water.  An  Indian-corn  field,  as  yet  unharvested, 
—  huge,  golden  pumpkins  scattered  among  the  hills 
of  corn,  —  a  noble-looking  fruit.  After  the  sun  was 
down,  the  sky  was  deeply  dyed  with  a  broad  sweep  oi 
gold,  high  towards  the  zenith ;  not  flaming  brightly, 
but  of  a  somewhat  dusky  gold.  A  piece  of  water,  ex 
tending  towards  the  west,  between  high  banks,  caughi 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  97 

the  reflection,  and  appeared  like  a  sheet  of  brighter 
and  more  glistening  gold  than  the  sky  which  made  it 
bright. 

Dandelions  and  blue  flowers  are  still  growing  in 
sunny  places.  Saw  in  a  barn  a  prodigious  treasure  of 
onions  in  their  silvery  coats,  exhaling  a  penetrating 
perfume. 

How  exceeding  bright  looks  the  sunshine,  casually 
reflected  from  a  looking-glass  into  a  gloomy  region  of 
the  chamber,  distinctly  marking  out  the  figures  and 
colors  of  the  paper-hangings,  which  are  scarcely  seen 
elsewhere.  It  is  like  the  light  of  mind  thrown  on  an 
obscure  subject. 

Man's  finest  workmanship,  the  closer  you  observe  it, 
the  more  imperfections  it  shows ;  as  in  a  piece  of 
polished  steel  a  microscope  will  discover  a  rough  sur 
face.  Whereas,  what  may  look  coarse  and  rough  in 
Nature's  workmanship  will  show  an  infinitely  minute 
perfection,  the  closer  you  look  into  it.  The  reason  of 
the  minute  superiority  of  Nature's  work  over  man's  is, 
that  the  former  works  from  the  innermost  germ,  while 
the  latter  works  merely  superficially. 

Standing  in  the  cross-road  that  leads  by  the  Min 
eral  Spring,  and  looking  towards  an  opposite  shore  of 
the  lake,  an  ascending  bank,  with  a  dense  border  of 
trees,  green,  yellow,  red,  russet,  all  bright  colors, 
brightened  by  the  mild  brilliancy  of  the  descending 
sun  ;  it  was  strange  to  recognize  the  sober  old  friends 
of  spring  and  summer  in  this  new  dress.  By  the  by, 
a  pretty  riddle  or  fable  might  be  made  out  of  the 
changes  in  apparel  of  the  familiar  trees  round  a  house 

VOL.   IX.  7 


98  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837. 

adapted  for  children.  But  in  the  lake,  beneath  the 
aforesaid  border  of  trees,  —  the  water  being  not  rip 
pled,  but  its  grassy  surface  somewhat  moved  and 
shaken  by  the  remote  agitation  of  a  breeze  that  was 
breathing  on  the  outer  lake,  —  this  being  in  a  sort  of 
bay,  —  in  the  slightly  agitated  mirror,  the  variegated 
trees  were  reflected  dreamily  and  indistinctly ;  a  broad 
belt  of  bright  and  diversified  colors  shining  in  the  wa 
ter  beneath.  Sometimes  the  image  of  a  tree  might  be 
almost  traced  ;  then  nothing  but  this  sweep  of  broken 
rainbow.  It  was  like  the  recollection  of  the  real  scene 
in  an  observer's  mind,  —  a  confused  radiance. 

A  whirlwind,  whirling  the  dried  leaves  round  in  a 
circle,  not  very  violently. 

To  well  consider  the  characters  of  a  family  of  per-- 
sons  in  a  certain  condition,  —  in  poverty,  for  instance, 
—  and  endeavor  to  judge  how  an  altered  condition 
would  affect  the  character  of  each. 

The  aromatic  odor  of  peat-smoke  in  the  sunny  au 
tumnal  air  is  very  pleasant. 

Salem,  October  14^/i.  —  A  walk  through  Beverly 
to  Browne's  Hill,  and  home  by  the  iron-factory.  A 
bright,  cool  afternoon.  The  trees,  in  a  large  part  of 
the  space  through  which  I  passed,  appeared  to  be  in 
their  fullest  glory,  bright  red,  yellow,  some  of  a  tender 
green,  appearing  at  a  distance  as  if  bedecked  with 
new  foliage,  though  this  emerald  tint  was  likewise  the 
effect  of  frost.  In  some  places,  large  tracts  of  ground 
were  covered  as  with  a  scarlet  cloth,  —  the  underbrush 
being  thus  colored.  The  general  character  of  these 


1837.J  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  99 

autumnal  colors  is  not  gaudy,  scarcely  gay ;  there  is 
something  too  deep  and  rich  in  it :  it  is  gorgeous  and 
magnificent,  but  with  a  sobriety  diffused.  The  pas 
tures  at  the  foot  of  Browne's  Hill  were  plentifully 
covered  with  barberry  -  bushes,  the  leaves  of  which 
were  reddish,  and  they  were  hung  with  a  prodigious 
quantity  of  berries.  From  the  summit  of  the  hill, 
looking  down  a  tract  of  woodland  at  a  considerable 
distance,  so  that  the  interstices  between  the  trees  could 
not  be  seen,  their  tops  presented  an  unbroken  level, 
and  seemed  somewhat  like  a  richly  variegated  carpet. 
The  prospect  from  the  hill  is  wide  and  interesting; 
but  methinks  it  is  pleasanter  in  the  more  immediate 
vicinity  of  the  hill  than  miles  away.  It  is  agreeable 
to  look  down  at  the  square  patches  of  cornfield,  or  of 
potato-ground,  or  of  cabbages  still  green,  or  of  beets 
looking  red,  —  all  a  man's  farm,  in  short,  —  each  por 
tion  of  which  he  considers  separately  so  important, 
while  you  take  in  the  whole  at  a  glance.  Then  to  cast 
your  eye  over  so  many  different  establishments  at  once 
and  rapidly  compare  them,  —  here  a  house  of  gentil 
ity,  with  shady  old  yellow-leaved  elms  hanging  around 
it ;  there  a  new  little  white  dwelling ;  there  an  old 
farm-house  ;  to  see  the  barns  and  sheds  and  all  the 
out-houses  clustered  together ;  to  comprehend  the  one 
ness  and  exclusiveness  and  what  constitutes  the  pecuL 
iarity  of  each  of  so  many  establishments,  and  to  have 
in  your  mind  a  multitude  of  them,  each  of  which  is  the 
most  important  part  of  the  world  to  those  who  live  in 
it,  —  this  really  enlarges  the  mind,  and  you  come  down 
the  hill  somewhat  wiser  than  you  go  up.  Pleasant  to 
look  over  an  orchard  far  below,  and  see  the  trees,  each 
casting  its  own  shadow ;  the  white  spires  of  meeting 
houses;  a  sheet  of  water,  partly  seen  among  swelling 


100  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837. 

lands.  This  Browne's  Hill  is  a  long  ridge,  lying  in 
the  midst  of  a  large,  level  plain ;  it  looks  at  a  distance 
somewhat  like  a  whale,  with  its  head  and  tail  under 
water,  but  its  immense  back  protruding,  with  steep 
sides,  and  a  gradual  curve  along  its  length.  When  you 
have  climbed  it  on  one  side,  and  gaze  from  the  sum 
mit  at  the  other,  you  feel  as  if  you  had  made  a  discov 
ery,  —  the  landscape  being  quite  different  on  the  two 
sides.  The  cellar  of  the  house  which  formerly  crowned 
the  hill,  and  used  to  be  named  Browne's  Folly,  still 
remains,  two  grass-grown  and  shallow  hollows,  on  the 
highest  part  of  the  ridge.  The  house  consisted  of  two 
wings,  each  perhaps  sixty  feet  in  length,  united  by  a 
middle  part,  in  which  was  the  entrance-hall,  and  which 
looked  lengthwise  along  the  hill.  The  foundation  of 
a  spacious  porch  may  be  traced  on  either  side  of  the 
central  portion  ;  some  of  the  stones  still  remain  ;  but 
even  where  they  are  gone,  the  line  of  the  porch  is  still 
traceable  by  the  greener  verdure.  In  the  cellar,  or 
rather  in  the  two  cellars,  grow  one  or  two  barberry- 
bushes,  with  frost-bitten  fruit ;  there  is  also  yarrow 
with  its  white  flower,  and  yellow  dandelions.  The 
cellars  are  still  deep  enough  to  shelter  a  person,  all 
but  his  head  at  least,  from  the  wind  on  the  summit  of 
the  hill ;  but  they  are  all  grass-grown.  A  line  of  trees 
seems  to  have  been  planted  along  the  ridge  of  the  hill. 
The  edifice  must  have  made  quite  a  magnificent  ap 
pearance. 

Characteristics  during  the  walk :  — Apple-trees  with 
only  here  and  there  an  apple  on  the  boughs,  among 
the  thinned  leaves,  the  relics  of  a  gathering.  In  others 
you  observe  a  rustling,  and  see  the  boughs  shaking 
and  hear  the  apples  thumping  down,  without  seeing 
the  person  who  does  it.  Apples  scattered  by  the  way 


/837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOtiS:  101 

side,  some  with  pieces  bitten  out,  others 'eiitire,  wl«ic]b: 
you  pick  up  and  taste,  and  find  theni  harsh,'  crabbed ; 
cider-apples,  though  they  have  a  pretty,  waxen  appear 
ance.  In  sunny  spots  of  woodland,  boys  in  search  of 
nuts,  looking-  picturesque  among  the  scarlet  and  golden 
foliage.  There  is  something  in  this  sunny  autumnal 
atmosphere  that  gives  a  peculiar  effect  to  laughter  and 
joyous  voices,  —  it  makes  them  infinitely  more  elastic 
and  gladsome  than  at  other  seasons.  Heaps  of  dry 
leaves  tossed  together  by  the  wind,  as  if  for  a  couch 
and  lounging-place  for  the  weary  traveller,  while  the 
sun  is  warming  it  for  him.  Golden  pumpkins  and 
squashes,  heaped  in  the  angle  of  a  house  till  they 
reach  the  lower  windows.  Ox -teams,  laden  with  a 
rustling  load  of  Indian  corn,  in  the  stalk  and  ear. 
When  an  inlet  of  the  sea  runs  far  up  into  the  country, 
you  stare  to  see  a  large  schooner  appear  amid  the 
rural  landscape;  she  is  unloading  a  cargo  of  wood, 
moist  with  rain  or  salt  water  that  has  dashed  over  it. 
Perhaps  you  hear  the  sound  of  an  axe  in  the  wood 
land  ;  occasionally,  the  report  of  a  fowling-piece.  The 
travellers  in  the  early  part  of  the  afternoon  look  warm 
and  comfortable  as  if  taking  a  summer  drive  ;  but  as 
eve  draws  nearer,  you  meet  them  well  wrapped  in  top 
coats  or  cloaks,  or  rough,  great  surtouts,  and  red-nosed 
withal,  seeming  to  take  no  great  comfort,  but  pressing 
homeward.  The  characteristic  conversation  among 
teamsters  and  country  squires,  where  the  ascent  of  a 
hill  causes  the  chaise  to  go  at  the  same  pace  as  an  ox- 
team,  —  perhaps  discussing  the  qualities  of  a  yoke  of 
oxen.  The  cold,  blue  aspects  of  sheets  of  water.  Some 
of  the  country  shops  with  the  doors  closed ;  others  still 
open  as  in  summer.  I  meet  a  wood-sawyer,  with  his 
horse  and  saw  on  his  shoulders,  returning  from  work. 


AM&RiCAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837 


As;  night"  draws  on,-.you  begin  to  see  the  gleaming  oi 
fires  on  the  ceilings  in  the  houses  which  you  pass. 
The  comfortless  appearance  of  houses  at  bleak  and 
bare  spots,  —  you  wonder  how  there  can  be  any  enjoy 
ment  in  them.  I  meet  a  girl  in  a  chintz  gown,  with  a 
small  shawl  on  her  shoulders,  white  stockings,  and 
summer  morocco  shoes,  —  it  looks  observable.  Tur 
keys,  queer,  solemn  objects,  in  black  attire,  grazing 
about,  and  trying  to  peck  the  fallen  apples,  which  slip 
away  from  their  bills. 

October  ~LQth,  —  Spent  the  whole  afternoon  in  a 
ramble  to  the  sea  -shore,  near  Phillips's  Beach.  A 
beautiful,  warm,  sunny  afternoon,  the  very  pleasant- 
est  day,  probably,  that  there  has  been  in  the  whole 
course  of  the  year.  People  at  work,  harvesting,  with 
out  their  coats.  Cocks,  with  their  squad  of  hens,  in 
the  grass-fields,  hunting  grasshoppers,  chasing  them 
eagerly  with  outspread  wings,  appearing  to  take  much 
interest  in  the  sport,  apart  from  the  profit.  Other 
hens  picking  up  the  ears  of  Indian  corn.  Grasshop 
pers,  flies,  and  flying  insects  of  all  sorts  are  more 
abundant  in  these  warm  autumnal  days  than  I  have 
seen  them  at  any  other  time.  Yellow  butterflies  flut 
ter  about  in  the  sunshine,  singly,  by  pairs,  or  more, 
and  are  wafted  on  the  gentle  gales.  The  crickets  be 
gin  to  sing  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  sometimes  a 
locust  may  be  heard.  In  some  warm  spots,  a  pleasant 
buzz  of  many  insects. 

Crossed  the  fields  near  Brookhouse's  villa,  and  came 
(ipon  a  long  beach,  —  at  least  a  mile  long,  I  should 
think,  —  terminated  by  craggy  rocks  at  either  end, 
and  backed  by  a  high  broken  bank,  the  grassy  summit 
of  which,  year  by  year,  is  continually  breaking  away. 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  103 

and  precipitated  to  the  bottom.  At  the  foot  of  the 
bank,  in  some  parts,  is  a  vast  number  of  pebbles  and 
paving-stones,  rolled  up  thither  by  the  sea  long  ago. 
The  beach  is  of  a  brown  sand,  with  hardly  any  peb 
bles  intermixed  upon  it.  When  the  tide  is  part  way 
down,  there  is  a  margin  of  several  yards  from  the 
water's  edge,  along  the  whole  mile  length  of  the 
beach,  which  glistens  like  a  mirror,  and  reflects  ob 
jects,  and  shines  bright  in  the  sunshine,  the  sand  be 
ing  wet  to  that  distance  from  the  water.  Above  this 
margin  the  sand  is  not  wet,  and  grows  less  and  less 
damp  the  farther  towards  the  bank  you  keep.  In  some 
places  your  footstep  is  perfectly  implanted,  showing 
the  whole  shape,  and  the  square  toe,  and  every  nail 
in  the  heel  of  your  boot.  Elsewhere,  the  impression 
is  imperfect,  and  even  when  you  stamp,  you  cannot 
imprint  the  whole.  As  you  tread,  a  dry  spot  flashes 
around  your  step,  and  grows  moist  as  you  lift  your 
foot  again.  Pleasant  to  pass  along  this  extensive 
walk,  watching  the  surf  -  wave  ;  —  how  sometimes  it 
seems  to  make  a  feint  of  breaking,  but  dies  away  in 
effectually,  merely  kissing  the  strand  ;  then,  after 
many  such  abortive  efforts,  it  gathers  itself,  and 
forms  a  high  wall,  and  rolls  onward,  heightening  and 
heightening  without  foam  at  the  summit  of  the  green 
line,  and  at  last  throws  itself  fiercely  on  the  beach, 
with  a  loud  roar,  the  spray  flying  above.  As  you 
walk  along,  you  are  preceded  by  a  flock  of  twenty  or 
thirty  beach  birds,  which  are  seeking,  I  suppose,  for 
food  on  the  margin  of  the  surf,  yet  seem  to  be  merely 
sporting,  chasing  the  sea  as  it  retires,  and  running  up 
before  the  impending  wave.  Sometimes  they  let  it 
bear  them  off  their  feet,  and  float  lightly  on  its  break 
ing  summit ;  sometimes  they  flutter  and  seem  to  rest 


104  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837, 

on  the  feathery  spray.  They  are  little  birds  with 
gray  backs  and  snow-white  breasts  ;  their  images  may 
be  seen  in  the  wet  sand  almost  or  quite  as  distinctly 
as  the  reality.  Their  legs  are  long.  As  you  draw 
near,  they  take  a  flight  of  a  score  of  yards  or  more, 
and  then  recommence  their  dalliance  with  the  surf- 
wave.  You  may  behold  their  multitudinous  little 
tracks  all  along  your  way.  Before  you  reach  the  end 
of  the  beach,  you  become  quite  attached  to  these  little 
sea-birds,  and  take  much  interest  in  their  occupations. 
After  passing  in  one  direction,  it  is  pleasant  then  to 
retrace  your  footsteps.  Your  tracks  being  all  trace 
able,  you  may  recall  the  whole  mood  and  occupation 
of  your  mind  during  your  first  passage.  Here  you 
turned  somewhat  asic!e  to  pick  up  a  shell  that  you  saw 
nearer  the  water's  edge.  Here  you  examined  a  long 
sea-weed,  and  trailed  its  length  after  you  for  a  consid 
erable  distance.  Here  the  effect  of  the  wide  sea 
struck  you  suddenly.  Here  you  fronted  the  ocean, 
looking  at  a  sail,  distant  in  the  sunny  blue.  Here 
you  looked  at  some  plant  on  the  bank.  Here  some 
vagary  of  mind  seems  to  have  bewildered  you  ;  for 
your  tracks  go  round  and  round,  and  interchange  each 
other  without  visible  reason.  Here  you  picked  up 
pebbles  and  skipped  them  upon  the  water.  Here  you 
wrote  names  and  drew  faces  with  a  razor  sea-shell  in 
the  sand. 

After  leaving  the  beach,  clambered  over  crags,  all 
shattered  and  tossed  about  everyhow ;  in  some  parts 
curiously  worn  and  hollowed  out,  almost  into  caverns. 
The  rock,  shagged  with  sea- weed,  —  in  some  places,  a 
thick  carpet  of  sea-weed  laid  over  the  pebbles,  into 
which  your  foot  would  sink.  Deep  tanks  among  these 
rocks,  which  the  sea  replenishes  at  high  tide,  and  thec 


J8S7.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  103 

leaves  the  bottom  all  covered  with  various  sorts  of  sea- 
plants,  as  if  it  were  some  sea-monster's  private  garden. 
I  saw  a  crab  in  one  of  them ;  five-fingers  too.  From 
the  edge  of  the  rocks,  you  may  look  off  into  deep,  deep 
water,  even  at  low  tide.  Among  the  rocks,  I  found  a 
great  bird,  whether  a  wild-goose,  a  loon,  or  an  alba 
tross,  I  scarcely  know.  It  was  in  such  a  position  that 
I  almost  fancied  it  might  be  asleep,  and  therefore 
drew  near  softly,  lest  it  should  take  flight ;  but  it  was 
dead,  and  stirred  not  when  I  touched  it.  Sometimes 
a  dead  fish  was  cast  up.  A  ledge  of  rocks,  with  a 
beacon  upon  it,  looking  like  a  monument  erected  to 
those  who  have  perished  by  shipwreck.  The  smoked, 
extempore  fire-place,  where  a  party  cooked  their  fish. 
About  midway  on  the  beach,  a  fresh  -  water  brooklet 
flows  towards  the  sea.  Where  it  leaves  the  land,  it  is 
quite  a  rippling  little  current ;  but,  in  flowing  across 
the  sand,  it  grows  shallower  and  more  shallow,  and  at 
last  is  quite  lost,  and  dies  in  the  effort  to  carry  its  lit 
tle  tribute  to  the  main. 

An  article  to  be  made  of  telling  the  stories  of  the 
tiles  of  an  old-fashioned  chimney-piece  to  a  child. 

A  person  conscious  that  he  was  soon  to  die,  the  hu 
mor  in  which  he  would  pay  his  last  visit  to  familiar 
persons  and  things. 

A  description  of  the  various  classes  of  hotels  and 
taverns,  and  the  prominent  personages  in  each.  There 
should  be  some  story  connected  with  it,  —  as  of  a  per 
son  commencing  with  boarding  at  a  great  hotel,  and 
gradually,  as  his  means  grew  less,  descending  in  life, 
till  he  got  below  ground  into  a  cellar. 


i06  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837. 

A  person  to  be  in  the  possession  of  something  as 
perfect  as  mortal  man  has  a  right  to  demand ;  he  tries 
to  make  it  better,  and  ruins  it  entirely. 

A  person  to  spend  all  his  life  and  splendid  talents 
in  trying  to  achieve  something  naturally  impossible 

—  as  to  make  a  conquest  over  Nature. 

Meditations  about  the  main  gas-pipe  of  a  great  city, 

—  if  the  supply  were  to  be  stopped,  what  would  hap 
pen  ?     How  many  different  scenes  it  sheds  light  on  ? 
It  might  be  made  emblematical  of  something. 

December  6th.  —  A  fairy  tale  about  chasing  Echo 
to  her  hiding-place.  Echo  is  the  voice  of  a  reflection 
in  a  mirror. 

A  house  to  be  built  over  a  natural  spring  of  inflam 
mable  gas,  and  to  be  constantly  illuminated  therewith. 
What  moral  could  be  drawn  from  this  ?  It  is  car- 
buretted  hydrogen  gas,  and  is  cooled  from  a  soft 
shale  or  slate,  which  is  sometimes  bituminous,  and  con 
tains  more  or  less  carbonate  of  lime.  It  appears  in 
the  vicinity  of  Lockport  and  Niagara  Falls,  and  else* 
where  in  New  York.  I  believe  it  indicates  coal.  At 
Fredonia,  the  whole  village  is  lighted  by  it.  Else 
where,  a  farm-house  was  lighted  by  it,  and  no  other 
fuel  used  in  the  coldest  weather. 

Gnomes,  or  other  mischievous  little  fiends,  to  be 
represented  as  burrowing  in  the  hollow  teeth  of  some 
person  who  has  subjected  himself  to  their  power.  It 
should  be  a  child's  story.  This  should  be  one  of  many 
modes  of  petty  torment.  They  should  be  contrasted 


1837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  107 

with  beneficent  fairies,  who  minister  to  the  pleasures 
of  the  good. 

A  man  will  undergo  great  toil  and  hardship  for  ends 
that  must  be  many  years  distant,  —  as  wealth  or  fame0 
— -  but  none  for  an  end  that  may  be  close  at  hand,  — - 
as  the  joys  of  heaven. 

Insincerity  in  a  man's  own  heart  must  make  all  his 
enjoyments,  all  that  concerns  him,  unreal ;  so  that  his 
whole  life  must  seem  like  a  merely  dramatic  represen 
tation.  And  this  would  be  the  case,  even  though  he 
were  surrounded  by  true-hearted  relatives  and  friends. 

A  company  of  men,  none  of  whom  have  anything 
worth  hoping  for  on  earth,  yet  who  do  not  look  for 
ward  to  anything  beyond  earth  ! 

Sorrow  to  be  personified,  and  its  effect  on  a  family 
represented  by  the  way  in  which  the  members  of  the 
family  regard  this  dark-clad  and  sad-browed  inmate. 

A  story  to  show  how  we  are  all  wronged  and  wrong*   I 
ers,  and  avenge  one  another.  J 

To  personify  winds  of  various  characters. 

A  man  living  a  wicked  life  in  one  place,  and  simul 
taneously  a  virtuous  and  religious  one  in  another. 

An  ornament  to  be  worn  about  the  person  of  a  lady, 
—  as  a  jewelled  heart.  After  many  years,  it  happens 
to  be  broken  or  unscrewed,  and  a  poisonous  odor 
comes  out. 


108  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837, 

Lieutenant  F.  W of  the  navy  was  an  inveterate 

duellist  and  an  unerring  shot.     He  had  taken  offence 

at   Lieutenant   F ,  and   endeavored  to  draw  him 

into  a  duel,  following  him  to  the  Mediterranean  for 
that  purpose,  and  harassing  him  intolerably.  At  Iast9 
both  parties  being  in  Massachusetts,  F deter 
mined  to  fight,  and  applied  to  Lieutenant  A to 

be  his  second.     A examined   into  the   merits  of 

the  quarrel,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  F 

had  not  given  F.  W justifiable  cause  for  driving 

him  to  a  duel,  and  that  he  ought  not  to  be  shot.     He 

instructed  F in  the  use  of  the  pistol,  and,  before 

the  meeting,  warned  him,  by  all  means,  to  get  the  first 

fire  ;  for  that,  if  F.  W fired  first,  he,  F ,  was 

infallibly  a  dead  man,  as  his  antagonist  could  shoot 

to  a   hair's-breadth.     The   parties   met ;  and  F , 

firing   immediately  on   the  word's  being   given,  shot 

F.    W-     -  through   the   heart.      F.    W ,  with   a 

most  savage  expression  of  countenance,  fired,  after  the 
bullet  had  gone  through  his  heart,  and  when  the  blood 

had  entirely  left  his  face,  and  shot  away  one  of  F 's 

side-locks.  His  face  probably  looked  as  if  he  were 
already  in  the  infernal  regions ;  but  afterwards  it 
assumed  an  angelic  calmness  and  repose. 

A  company  of  persons  to  drink  a  certain  medicinal 
preparation,  which  would  prove  a  poison,  or  the  con 
trary,  according  to  their  different  characters. 

Many  persons,  without  a  consciousness  of  so  doing, 
to  contribute  to  some  one  end  ;  as  to  a  beggar's  feast, 
made  up  of  broken  victuals  from  many  tables ;  or  a 
patch  carpet,  woven  of  shreds  from  innumerable  gar 
ments. 


5837.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  109 

Some  very  famous  jewel  or  other  thing,  much  talked 
of  all  over  the  world.  Some  person  to  meet  with  it, 
and  get  possession  of  it  in  some  unexpected  manner, 
amid  homely  circumstances. 

To  poison  a  person  or  a  party  of  persons  with  the 
sacramental  wine. 

A  cloud  in  the  shape  of  an  old  woman  kneeling, 
with  arms  extended  towards  the  moon. 

On  being  transported  to  strange  scenes,  we  feel  as 
if  all  were  unreal.  This  is  but  the  perception  of  the 
true  unreality  of  earthly  things,  made  evident  by  the 
want  of  congruity  between  ourselves  and  them.  By 
and  by  we  become  mutually  adapted,  and  the  percep 
tion  is  lost. 

An  old  looking-glass.  Somebody  finds  out  the  se 
cret  of  making  all  the  images  that  have  been  reflected 
in  it  pass  back  again  across  its  surface. 

Our  Indian  races  having  reared  no  monuments,  like 
the  Greeks,  Romans,  and  Egyptians,  when  they  have 
disappeared  from  the  earth  their  history  will  appear  a 
fable,  and  they  misty  phantoms. 

A  woman  to  sympathize  with  all  emotions,  but  to 
have  none  of  her  own. 

A  portrait  of  a  person  in  New  England  to  be  recog 
nized  as  of  the  same  person  represented  by  a  portrait 
in  Old  England.  Having  distinguished  himself  there, 
he  had  suddenly  vanished,  and  had  never  been  heard 


110  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1837, 

of  till  he  was  thus  discovered  to  be  identical  with  a 
distinguished  man  in  New  England. 

Men  of  cold  passions  have  quick  eyes. 

A  virtuous  but  giddy  girl  to  attempt  to  play  a  trick 
on  a  man.  He  sees  what  she  is  about,  and  contrives 
matters  so  that  she  throws  herself  completely  into  his 
power,  and  is  ruined,  —  all  in  jest. 

A  letter,  written  a  century  or  more  ago,  but  which 
has  never  yet  been  unsealed. 

A  partially  insane  man  to  believe  himself  the  Pro 
vincial  Governor  or  other  great  official  of  Massachu 
setts.  The  scene  might  be  the  Province  House. 

A  dreadful  secret  to  be  communicated  to  several 
people  of  various  characters,  —  grave  or  gay,  and 
they  all  to  become  insane,  according  to  their  charac 
ters,  by  the  influence  of  the  secret. 

Stories  to  be  told  of  a  certain  person's  appearance 
in  public,  of  his  having  been  seen  in  various  situations, 
and  of  his  making  visits  in  private  circles ;  but  finally, 
on  looking  for  this  person,  to  come  upon  his  old  grave 
and  mossy  tombstone. 

The  influence  of  a  peculiar  mind,  in  close  commun 
ion  with  another,  to  drive  the  latter  to  insanity. 

To  look  at  a  beautiful  girl,  and  picture  all  the  lovers, 
in  different  situations,  whose  hearts  are  centred  upon 
her. 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  Ill 

May  11,  1838.  —  At  Boston  last  week.  Items  :  — 
A  young  man,  with  a  small  mustache,  dyed  brown, 
reddish  from  its  original  light  color.  He  walks  with 
an  affected  gait,  his  arms  crooked  outwards,  treading 
much  on  his  toes.  His  conversation  is  about  the 
theatre,  where  he  has  a  season  ticket,  —  about  an  ama 
teur  who  lately  appeared  there,  and  about  actresses, 
with  other  theatrical  scandal.  —  In  the  smoking-room, 
two  checker  and  backgammon  boards ;  the  landlord 
a  great  player,  seemingly  a  stupid  man,  but  with  con 
siderable  shrewdness  and  knowledge  of  the  world.  — 
F ,  the  comedian,  a  stout,  heavy-looking  English 
man,  of  grave  deportment,  with  110  signs  of  wit  or  hu 
mor,  yet  aiming  at  both  in  conversation,  in  order  to 
support  his  character.  Very  steady  and  regular  in 
his  life,  and  parsimonious  in  his  disposition,  —  worth 
$50,000,  made  by  his  profession.  —  A  clergyman,  el 
derly,  with  a  white  neck- cloth,  very  unbecoming,  an 
unworldly  manner,  unacquaintaiice  with  the  customs 
of  the  house,  and  learning  them  in  a  childlike  way.  A 
ruffle  to  his  shirt,  crimped.  —  A  gentleman,  young, 
handsome,  and  sea-flushed,  belonging  to  Oswego,  New 
York,  but  just  arrived  in  port  from  the  Mediterranean  : 
he  inquires  of  me  about  the  troubles  in  Canada,  which 
were  first  beginning  to  make  a  noise  when  he  left  the 
country,  —  whether  they  are  all  over.  I  tell  him  all 
is  finished,  except  the  hanging  of  the  prisoners.  Then 
we  talk  over  the  matter,  and  I  tell  him  the  fates  of 
the  principal  men,  —  some  banished  to  New  South 
Wales,  one  hanged,  others  in  prison,  others,  conspicu 
ous  at  first,  now  almost  forgotten.  —  Apartments  of 
private  families  in  the  hotel,  —  what  sort  of  domes 
ticity  there  may  be  in  them  ;  eating  in  public,  with 
no  board  of  their  own.  The  gas  that  lights  the  rest 


112  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838. 

of  the  house  lights  them  also,  in  the  chandelier  from 
the  ceiling.  —  A  shabby-looking  man,  quiet,  \yith  spec 
tacles,  at  first  wearing  an  old,  coarse  brown  frock, 
then  appearing  in  a  suit  of  elderly  black,  saying  noth 
ing  unless  spoken  to,  but  talking  intelligently  when 
addressed.  He  is  an  editor,  and  I  suppose  printer, 
of  a  country  paper.  Among  the  guests,  he  holds  in 
tercourse  with  gentlemen  of  much  more  respectable 
appearance  than  himself,  from  the  same  part  of  the 
country.  —  Bill  of  fare  ;  wines  printed  on  the  back,  but 
nobody  calls  for  a  bottle.  Chairs  turned  down  for  ex 
pected  guests.  Three-pronged  steel  forks.  Cold  sup 
per  from  nine  to  eleven  P.  M.  Great,  round,  mahogany 
table,  in  the  sitting-room,  covered  with  papers.  In 
the  morning,  before  and  soon  after  breakfast,  gentle 
men  reading  the  morning  papers,  while  others  wait 
for  their  chance,  or  try  to  pick  out  something  from 
the  papers  of  yesterday  or  longer  ago.  In  the  fore 
noon,  the  Southern  papers  are  brought  in,  and  thrown 
damp  and  folded  on  the  table.  The  eagerness  with 
which  those  who  happen  to  be  in  the  room  start  up 
and  make  prize  of  them.  Play-bills,  printed  on  yel 
low  paper,  laid  upon  the  table.  Towards  evening 
comes  the  "  Transcript.'* 

June  ~L5th.  —  The  red  light  which  the  sunsets  at 
this  season  diffuse ;  there  being  showery  afternoons, 
but  the  sun  setting  bright  amid  clouds,  and  diffusing 
its  radiance  over  those  that  are  scattered  in  masses 
all  over  the  sky.  It  gives  a  rich  tinge  to  all  objects, 
even  to  those  of  sombre  hues,  yet  without  changing 
the  hues.  The  complexions  of  people  are  exceedingly 
enriched  by  it ;  they  look  warm,  and  kindled  with  a 
mild  fire.  The  whole  scenery  and  personages  acquire^ 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  113 

methinks,  a  passionate  character.  A  love-scene  should 
be  laid  on  such  an  evening'.  The  trees  and  the  grass 
have  now  the  brightest  possible  green,  there  having 
been  so  many  showers  alternating  with  such  power 
ful  sunshine.  There  are  roses  and  tulips  and  honey 
suckles,  with  their  sweet  perfume  ;  in  short,  the  splen 
dor  of  a  more  gorgeous  climate  than  ours  might  be 
brought  into  the  picture. 

The  situation  of  a  man  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd,  yet 
as  completely  in  the  power  of  another,  life  and  all,  as 
if  they  two  were  in  the  deepest  solitude. 

Tremont,  Boston,  June  \.§tli.  —  Tremendously  hot 
weather  to-day.  Went  on  board  the  Cyane  to  see 
Bridge,  the  purser.  Took  boat  from  the  end  of  Long 
Wharf,  with  two  boatmen  who  had  just  landed  a  man. 
Row  round  to  the  starboard  side  of  the  sloop,  where 
we  pass  up  the  steps,  and  are  received  by  Bridge,  who 
introduces  us  to  one  of  the  lieutenants,  —  Hazard. 
Sailors  and  midshipmen  scattered  about,  —  the  mid 
dies  having  a  foul  anchor,  that  is,  an  anchor  with  a 
cable  twisted  round  it,  embroidered  on  the  collars  of 
their  jackets.  The  officers  generally  wear  blue  jackets, 
with  lace  on  the  shoulders,  white  pantaloons,  and  cloth 
caps.  Introduced  into  the  cabin,  —  a  handsome  room, 
finished  with  mahogany,  comprehending  the  width  of 
the  vessel ;  a  sideboard  with  liquors,  and  above  it  a 
looking-glass;  behind  the  cabin,  an  inner  room,  in 
which  is  seated  a  lady,  waiting  for  the  captain  to  come 
on  board;  on  each  side  of  this  inner  cabin,  a  large 
and  convenient  state-room  with  bed,  —  the  doors  open 
ing  into  the  cabin.  This  cabin  is  on  a  level  with  the 
quarter-deck,  and  is  covered  by  the  poop-deck.  Going 


114  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838. 

down  below  stairs,  you  come  to  the  ward-room,  a 
pretty  large  room,  round  which  are  the  state-rooms  of 
the  lieutenants,  the  purser,  surgeon,  etc.  A  station 
ary  table.  The  ship's  main-mast  comes  down  through 
the  middle  of  the  room,  and  Bridge's  chair,  at  dinner, 
is  planted  against  it.  Wine  and  brandy  produced; 
and  Bridge  calls  to  the  Doctor  to  drink  with  him,  who 
answers  affirmatively  from  his  state-room,  and  shortly 
after  opens  the  door  and  makes  his  appearance.  Other 
officers  emerge  from  the  side  of  the  vessel,  or  disap 
pear  into  it,  in  the  same  way.  Forward  of  the  ward 
room,  adjoining  it,  and  on  the  same  level,  is  the  mid 
shipmen's  room,  on  the  larboard  side  of  the  vessel, 
not  partitioned  off,  so  as  to  be  shut  up.  On  a  shelf 
a  few  books ;  one  midshipman  politely  invites  us  to 
walk  in  ;  another  sits  writing.  Going  farther  forward, 
on  the  same  level,  we  come  to  the  crew's  department, 
part  of  which  is  occupied  by  the  cooking-establish 
ment,  where  all  sorts  of  cooking  is  going  on  for  the 
officers  and  men.  Through  the  whole  of  this  space, 
ward-room  and  all,  there  is  barely  room  to  stand  up 
right,  without  the  hat  on.  The  rules  of  the  quarter 
deck  (which  extends  aft  from  the  main-mast)  are,  that 
the  midshipmen  shall  not  presume  to  walk  on  the  star 
board  side  of  it,  nor  the  men  to  come  upon  it  at  all, 
unless  to  speak  to  an  officer.  The  poop-deck  is  still 
more  sacred,  —  the  lieutenants  being  confined  to  the 
larboard  side,  and  the  captain  alone  having  a  right  to 
the  starboard.  A  marine  was  pacing  the  poop-deck, 
being  the  only  guard  that  I  saw  stationed  in  the  ves 
sel,  —  the  more  stringent  regulations  being  relaxed 
while  she  is  preparing  for  sea.  While  standing  on 
the  quarter-deck,  a  great  piping  at  the  gangway,  and 
she  second  cutter  comes  alongside,  bringing  the  consul 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  115 

and  some  other  gentleman  to  visit  the  vessel.  After 
a  while,  we  are  rowed  ashore  with  them,  in  the  same 
boat.  Its  crew  are  new  hands,  and  therefore  require 
much  instruction  from  the  cockswain.  We  are  seated 
under  an  awning.  The  guns  of  the  Cyane  are  medium 
thirty-two  pounders;  some  of  them  have  percussion 
locks. 

At  the  Tremont,  I  had  Bridge  to  dine  with  nies 
iced  champagne,  claret  in  glass  pitchers.  Nothing 
very  remarkable  among  the  guests.  A  wine-merchant, 
French  apparently,  though  he  had  arrived  the  day 
before  in  a  bark  from  Copenhagen :  a  somewhat  cor 
pulent  gentleman,  without  so  good  manners  as  an 
American  would  have  in  the  same  line  of  life,  but 
good-natured,  sociable,  and  civil,  complaining  of  the 
heat.  He  had  rings  on  his  fingers  of  great  weight  of 
metal,  and  one  of  them  had  a  seal  for  letters  ;  brooches 
at  the  bosom,  three  in  a  row,  up  and  down ;  also  a 
gold  watch-guard,  with  a  seal  appended.  Talks  of  the 
comparative  price  of  living,  of  clothes,  etc.,  here  and 
in  Europe.  Tells  of  the  prices  of  wines  by  the  cask 
and  pipe.  Champagne,  he  says,  is  drunk  of  better 
quality  here  than  where  it  grows.  —  A  vendor  of  pat 
ent  medicines,  Doctor  Jaques,  makes  acquaintance 
with  me,  and  shows  me  his  recommendatory  letters  in 
favor  of  himself  and  drugs,  signed  by  a  long  list  of 
people.  He  prefers,  he  says,  booksellers  to  druggists 
as  his  agents,  and  inquired  of  me  about  them  in  this 
town.  He  seems  to  be  an  honest  man  enough,  witk 
an  intelligent  face,  and  sensible  in  his  talk,  but  not  a 
gentleman,  wearing  a  somewhat  shabby  brown  coat 
and  mixed  pantaloons,  being  ill-shaven,  and  apparently 
not  well  acquainted  with  the  customs  of  a  fashionable 
hotel.  A  simplicity  about  him  that  is  likable,  though, 


116  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838. 

I  believe,  he  comes  from  Philadelphia.  —  Naval  offi 
cers,  strolling  about  town,  bargaining  for  swords  and 
belts,  and  other  military  articles  ;  with  the  tailor,  to 
have  naval  buttons  put  on  their  shore-going  coats,  and 
for  their  pantaloons,  suited  to  the  climate  of  the  Med 
iterranean.  It  is  the  almost  invariable  habit  of  offi 
cers,  when  going  ashore  or  staying  on  shore,  to  divest 
themselves  of  all  military  or  naval  insignia,  and  ap= 
pear  as  private  citizens.  At  the  Tremont,  young  gen 
tlemen  with  long  earlocks,  —  straw  hats,  light,  or  dark- 
mixed.  —  The  theatre  being  closed,  the  play-bills  of 
many  nights  ago  are  posted  up  against  its  walls. 

July  4th.  —  A  very  hot,  bright,  sunny  day ;  town 
much  thronged ;  booths  on  the  Common,  selling  gin 
gerbread,  sugar-plums,  and  confectionery,  spruce  beer, 
lemonade.  Spirits  forbidden,  but  probably  sold  stealth 
ily.  On  the  top  of  one  of  the  booths  a  monkey,  with 
a  tail  two  or  three  feet  long.  He  is  fastened  by  a  cord, 
which,  getting  tangled  with  the  flag  over  the  booth,  he 
takes  hold  and  tries  to  free  it.  He  is  the  object  of 
much  attention  from  the  crowd,  and  played  with  by 
the  boys,  who  toss  up  gingerbread  to  him,  while  he 
nibbles  and  throws  it  down  again.  He  reciprocates 
notice,  of  some  kind  or  other,  with  all  who  notice  him. 
There  is  a  sort  of  gravity  about  him.  A  boy  pulls  his 
long  tail,  whereat  he  gives  a  slight  squeak,  and  for  the 
future  elevates  it  as  much  as  possible.  Looking  at 
the  same  booth  by  and  by,  I  find  that  the  poor  mon 
key  has  been  obliged  fco  betake  himself  to  the  top  of 
one  of  the  wooden  joists  that  stick  up  high  above. 
There  are  boys  going  about  with  molasses  candy,  al 
most  melted  down  in  the  sun.  Shows :  A  mammoth 
rat ;  a  collection  of  pirates,  murderers,  and  the  like,  in 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  117 

wax.  Constables  in  considerable  number,  parading 
about  with  their  staves,  sometimes  conversing  with 
each  other,  producing  an  effect  by  their  presence,  with 
out  having  to  interfere  actively.  One  or  two  old  salts, 
rather  the  worse  for  liquor  :  in  general  the  people  are 
very  temperate.  At  evening  the  effect  of  things  rather 
more  picturesque ;  some  of  the  booth-keepers  knock 
ing  down  the  temporary  structures,  and  putting  the 
materials  in  wagons  to  carry  away ;  other  booths 
lighted  up,  and  the  lights  gleaming  through  rents  in 
the  sail-cloth  tops.  The  customers  are  rather  riotous, 
calling  loudly  and  whimsically  for  what  they  want ;  a 
young  fellow  and  a  girl  coming  arm  in  arm  ;  two  girls 
approaching  the  booth,  and  getting  into  conversation 
with  the  folks  thereabout.  Perchance  a  knock-down 
between  two  half -sober  fellows  in  the  crowd :  a  knock 
down  without  a  heavy  blow,  the  receiver  being  scarcely 
able  to  keep  his  footing  at  any  rate.  Shoutings  and 
hallooings,  laughter,  oa,ths,  —  generally  a  good-natured 
tumult ;  and  the  constables  use  no  severity,  but  inter 
fere,  if  at  all,  in  a  friendly  sort  of  way.  I  talk  with 
one  about  the  way  in  which  the  day  has  passed,  and 
he  bears  testimony  to  the  orderliness  of  the  crowd,  but 
suspects  one  booth  of  selling  liquor,  and  relates  one 
scuffle.  There  is  a  talkative  and  witty  seller  of  gin 
gerbread  holding  forth  to  the  people  from  his  cart, 
making  himself  quite  a  noted  character  by  his  readi 
ness  of  remark  and  humor,  and  disposing  of  all  his 
wares.  Late  in  the  evening,  during  the  fire-works, 
people  are  consulting  how  they  are  to  get  home,  — 
many  having  long  miles  to  walk :  a  father,  with  wife 
and  children,  saying  it  will  be  twelve  o'clock  before 
they  reach  home,  the  children  being  already  tired  to 
death.  The  moon  beautifully  dark-bright,  not  giving 


118  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838. 

so  white  a  light  as  sometimes.  The  girls  all  look  beau 
tiful  and  fairy-like  in  it,  not  exactly  distinct,  nor  yet 
dim.  The  different  characters  of  female  countenances 
during  the  day,  —  mirthful  and  mischievous,  slyly  hu 
morous,  stupid,  looking  genteel  generally,  but  when 
they  speak  often  betraying  plebeianism  by  the  tones 
of  their  voices.  Two  girls  are  very  tired,  —  one  a 
pale,  thin,  languid-looking  creature ;  the  other  plump, 
rosy,  rather  overburdened  with  her  own  little  body. 
Gingerbread  figures,  in  the  shape  of  Jim  Crow  and 
other  popularities. 

In  the  old  burial  ground,  Charter  Street,  a  slate 
gravestone,  carved  round  the  borders,  to  the  memory 
of  "  Colonel  John  Hathorne,  Esq.,"  who  died  in 
1717.  This  was  the  witch-judge.  The  stone  is  sunk 
deep  into  the  earth,  and  leans  forward,  and  the  grass 
grows  very  long  around  it ;  and,  on  account  of  the 
moss,  it  was  rather  difficult  to  make  out  the  date. 
Other  Hathornes  lie  buried  in  a  range  with  him  on 
either  side.  In  a  corner  of  the  burial-ground,  close 
under  Dr.  P 's  garden  fence,  are  the  most  an 
cient  stones  remaining  in  the  graveyard ;  moss-grown, 
deeply  sunken.  One  to  "  Dr.  John  Swmnerton,  Phy 
sician,"  in  1688 ;  another  to  his  wife.  There,  too,  is 
the  grave  of  Nathaniel  Mather,  the  younger  brother 
of  Cotton,  and  mentioned  in  the  Magnalia  as  a  hard 
student,  and  of  great  promise.  "  An  aged  man  at 
nineteen  years,"  saith  the  gravestone.  It  affected  me 
deeply,  when  I  had  cleared  away  the  grass  from  the 
half-buried  stone,  and  read  the  name.  An  apple-tree 
or  two  hang  over  these  old  graves,  and  throw  down 
the  blighted  fruit  on  Nathaniel  Mather's  grave,  —  he 
blighted  too.  It  gives  strange  ideas,  to  think  how 


1838.J  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  119 

convenient  to  Dr.  P 's  family  this  burial-ground 

is5  —  the  monuments  standing  almost  within  arm's 
reach  of  the  side  windows  of  the  parlor,  —  and  there 
being  a  little  gate  from  the  back  yard  through  which 
we  step  forth  upon  those  old  graves  aforesaid.  And 
the  tomb  of  the  P.  family  is  right  in  front,  and  close 
to  the  gate.  It  is  now  filled,  the  last  being  the  ref 

ugee  Tory,  Colonel  P ,  and  his  wife.     M.  P 

has  trained  flowers  over  this  tomb,  on  account  of  her 
friendly  relations  with  Colonel  P-  — . 

It  is  not,  I  think,  the  most  ancient  families  that 
have  tombs,  —  their  ancestry  for  two  or  three  genera 
tions  having  been  reposited  in  the  earth  before  such  a 
luxury  as  a  tomb  was  thought  of.  Men  who  founded 
families,  and  grew  rich,  a  century  or  so  ago,  were 
probably  the  first. 

There  is  a  tomb  of  the  Lyndes,  with  a  slab  of  slate 
affixed  to  the  brick  masonry  on  one  side,  and  carved 
with  a  coat  of  arms. 

July  10th.  —  A  fishing  excursion,  last  Saturday  af 
ternoon,  eight  or  ten  miles  out  in  the  harbor.  A  fine 
wind  out,  which  died  away  towards  evening,  and 
finally  became  quite  calm.  We  cooked  our  fish  on  a 
rock  named  "  Satan,"  about  forty  feet  long  and  twenty 
broad,  irregular  in  its  shape,  and  of  uneven  surface, 
with  pools  of  water  here  and  there,  left  by  the  tide,  — 
dark  brown  rock,  or  whitish  ;  there  was  the  excre 
merit  of  sea-fowl  scattered  on  it,  and  a  few  feathers. 
The  water  was  deep  around  the  rock,  and  swelling  up 
and  downward,  waving  the  sea-weed.  We  built  two 
fires,  which,  as  the  dusk  deepened,  cast  a  red  gleam 
over  the  rock  and  the  waves,  and  made  the  sea,  on  the 
side  away  from  the  sunset,  look  dismal;  but  by  and  b^ 


up  came  the  moon,  rod  as  a  house  atlro,  and,  as  it  rose, 
it  £ivw  silvery  bright,  and  throw  a  lino  of  silver  across 
t!u-  calm  sea.  llouottth  the  moon  and  the  hori/.ou,  the 
commencement  of  its  track  of  bright ness,  there  was  a 
eono  of  blackness,  or  of  very  black  blue.  It  was  aft(>r 
uiuo  lu'foro  \\o  tiuislunl  our  supper,  which  \vo  aU*  by 
itrcl»s;h<  and  moonshine,  and  then  wont  aboard  oui 
tlivkcd  b»»at  aj;ain,  —-  no  sate  ai-hievonient  in  our  tick 
lish  liulo  tli»rv.  l\>  those  remaining  in  the  lu>at,  \vt* 
had  looked  very  ptctuivs<|uo  arotnul  our  tiivs,  and  on 
the  rook  above  them,  -our  statues  beiui;%  apparently 
inoix^vsed  t*>  the  si/.e  ot  the  sons  ot  Anak.  The  tith\ 
now  coiuiu:*'  up,  s'Tadnully  da^hetl  *>\»>r  tlie  ihvs  wo 
bad  left,  and  so  the  rook  a^ain  became  a  desert.  The 
wind  had  now  entirely  died  awav,  leaving  the  sea 
smooth  as  jjhiss,  exeept  a  tpiiot  swell,  and  \vo  could 
onlv  tloat  aloui»\  a*  the  tide  bore  us,  almost  impeive^v 
tiblv.  It  was  as  beautiful  a  ni^ht  as  evc^r  shono,  — 
t-alm,  warm,  bright,  the  moon  boiu£  at  full.  ()u  one 
sitle  of  us  was  Marblehoad  li«;ht  house,  t>u  the  other. 
Ivikor's  Island  ;  ami  both,  bv  tlu>  iutlucuco  of  the 
moonlight,  had  a  silvery  hue,  unlike  their  ruddy  bea- 
in  dark  nights.  They  throw  loujj  rotKn'tions 
(.he  soa,  like  the  mot>u.  There  we  tU>atod  slowly 
with  the  tide  till  about  miduij;lu\  and  then,  the  title 
turning  wo  fastened  our  vessel  to  a  p»>le,  which 
marked  a  rook,  so  a*  to  prevent  hoiu£  carriovl  back  by 
the  ivthiv.  Some  of  the  passengers  turuovl  in  Inflow  ; 
sotue  stivtchctl  themselves  on  dook  :  s<>n\(>  walkoil 
about,  smoking  ei^rs.  1  kept  the  dook  all  ui^ht, 
1  ^iuv  thei\v  was  a  little  cat's  paw  of  a  hroo^o,  wheit^ 
upon  \>o  untie\l  oiu^vlws  fi\>m  the  pole  :  b\it  it  almost 
immediately  die\l  away,  ivml  we  wore  coit^vlled  to 
make  fast  apun.  At  aKnit  two  o*c.Uv.k,  up  n>so  t.ho 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-ROOKS.  l"2i 

morning-star,  a  round,  rod,  liory  l):»ll,  very  oouipanir- 
blo  U)  tho  moon  at  its  rising,  and,  getting  upward,  it 
shone  marvellously  bright,  and  threw  its  long  refloo- 
tion  into  tho  sea,  liko  tho  moon  and  tho  two  light 
houses.  It  was  Venus,  and  tho  brightest  star  I  over 
beheld;  it  was  in  tho  northeast,  Tho  moon  mado  but 
a  voi  y  small  circuit  in  tho  sky,  though  it  shouo  all 
night*  Tho  aurora  boroalis  shot  upwards  io  tho  7,0- 
uith,  and  between  two  and  throo  o'clock  tho.  first 
streak  of  dawn  appeared,  stretching  far  along  tho 
edge  of  tho  eastern  horizon,  —  a  faint  streak  of  light ; 
then  it  gradually  broadened  and  deepened,  and  bo- 
oamo  a  rich  salTron  tint,  with  violet  above,  and  then 
an  ethereal  and  transparent  blue.  Tho  sallrou  became 
intermixed  with  splendor,  kindling  and  kindling,  Ha 
ker's  Island  lights  being  in  tho  centre  of  the  bright 
ness,  so  that  they  were  extinguished  by  it,  or  at.  least, 
grow  invisible.  On  tho  other  side  of  tho  boat,  tho 
Marblehead  light -house  still  throw  out  its  silvery 
gleam,  and  tho  moon  shone  brightly  too;  and  its  light. 
looked  very  singularly,  mingling  with  tho  growing 
daylight.  It,  was  not.  liko  tho  moonshine,  brightening 
as  the  evening  twilight  deepens;  for  now  it  throw  its 
radiance  over  tho  landscape,  the  green  and  other  tints 
of  which  wore  displayed  by  the  daylight,  whereas  at 
evening  all  those  tints  are  obscured.  It  looked  liko 
a  milder  sunshine,  —  a  dreamy  sunshine,  —  the  sun- 
shiue  of  a  world  not  quite  so  real  and  material  as  this. 
All  night  wo  had  heard  tho  Marblehead  clocks  telling 
the  hour.  Anon,  up  oamo  tho  sun,  without  any  bustle, 
but  quietly,  his  antecedent  splendors  having  gilded 
the  sea  for  Home  timo  before.  It  had  been  oold  to 
wards  morning,  but  now  grow  warm,  and  gradually 
burning  hot  in  the  sun.  A  breeze  sprang  up,  but  oui% 


122  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838. 

first  use  of  it  was  to  get  aground  on  Coney  Island 
about  five  o'clock,  where  we  lay  till  nine  or  there 
about^  and  then  floated  slowly  up  to  the  wharf.  The 
roar  of  distant  surf,  the  rolling  of  porpoises,  the  pass 
ing  of  shoals  of  fish,  a  steamboat  smoking  along  at  a 
distance,  were  the  scene  on  my  watch.  I  fished  dur 
ing  the  night,  and,  feeling  something  on  the  line,  I 
drew  up  with  great  eagerness  and  vigor.  It  was  two 
of  those  broad -leaved  sea -weeds,  -with  stems  like 
snakes,  both  rooted  on  a  stone,  —  all  which  came  up 
together.  Often  these  sea-weeds  root  themselves  on 

o 

mussels.  In  the  morning,  our  pilot  killed  a  flounder 
with  the  boat-hook,  the  poor  fish  thinking  himself  se 
cure  on  the  bottom. 

Ladurlad,  in  "  The  Curse  of  Kehama,"  on  visiting  a 
certain  celestial  region,  the  fire  in  his  heart  and  brain 
died  away  for  a  season,  but  was  rekindled  again  on 
returning  to  earth.  So  may  it  be  with  rne  in  my  pro 
jected  three  months'  seclusion  from  old  associations. 

Punishment  of  a  miser,  —  to  pay  the  drafts  of  his 
heir  in  his  tomb. 

July  V&ih.  —  A  show  of  wax-figures,  consisting  al 
most  wholly  of  murderers  and  their  victims,  —  Gibbs 
and  Hansley,  the  pirates,  and  the  Dutch  girl  whom 
Gibbs  murdered.  Gibbs  and  Hansley  were  admirably 
done,  as  natural  as  life ;  and  many  people  who  had 
known  Gibbs  would  not,  according  to  the  showman,  be 
convinced  that  this  wax-figure  was  not  his  skin  stuffed. 
The  two  pirates  were  represented  with  halters  round 
their  necks,  just  ready  to  be  turned  off ;  and  the 
sheriff  stood  behind  them,  with  his  watch,  waiting  for 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  123 

the  moment.  The  clothes,  halter,  and  Gibbs's  hair 
were  authentic.  E.  K.  Avery  and  Cornell,  —  the  for 
mer  a  figure  in  black,  leaning  on  the  back  of  a  chair, 
in  the  attitude  of  a  clergyman  about  to  pray ;  an  ugly 
devil,  said  to  be  a  good  likeness.  Ellen  Jewett  and 
K.  P.  Robinson,  she  dressed  richly,  in  extreme  fash 
ion,  and  very  pretty ;  he  awkward  and  stiff,  it  being 
difficult  to  stuff  a  figure  to  look  like  a  gentlemano 
The  showman  seemed  very  proud  of  Ellen  Jewett,  and 
spoke  of  her  somewhat  as  if  this  wax-figure  were  a 
real  creation.  Strong  and  Mrs.  Whipple,  who  to 
gether  murdered  the  husband  of  the  latter.  Lastly 
the  Siamese  twins.  The  showman  is  careful  to  call 
his  exhibition  the  "  Statuary."  He  walks  to  and  fro 
before  the  figures,  talking  of  the  history  of  the  per 
sons,  the  moral  lessons  to  be  drawn  therefrom,  and  es 
pecially  of  the  excellence  of  the  wax-work.  He  has 
for  sale  printed  histories  of  the  personages.  He  is  a 
friendly,  easy-mannered  sort  of  a  half-genteel  charac 
ter,  whose  talk  has  been  moulded  by  the  persons  who 
most  frequent  such  a  show ;  an  air  of  superiority  of 
information,  a  moral  instructor,  with  a  great  deal  of 
real  knowledge  of  the  world.  He  invites  his  depart 
ing  guests  to  call  again  and  bring  their  friends,  desir 
ing  to  know  whether  they  are  pleased  ;  telling  that  he 
had  a  thousand  people  on  the  4th  of  July,  and  that 
they  were  all  perfectly  satisfied.  He  talks  with  the 
female  visitors,  remarking  on  Ellen  Jewett's  person 
and  dress  to  them,  he  having  "  spared  no  expense  in 
dressing  her ;  and  all  the  ladies  say  that  a  dress  never 
Bet  better,  and  he  thinks  he  never  knew  a  handsomer 
female."  He  goes  to  and  fro,  snuffing  the  candles, 
and  now  and  then  holding  one  to  the  face  of  a  favorite 
figure.  Ever  and  anon,  hearing  steps  upon  the  stair 


124  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838. 

case,  he  goes  to  admit  a  new  visitor.  The  visitors,  — 
a  half-bumpkin,  half  country-squire-like  man,  who  has 
something  of  a  knowing  air,  and  yet  looks  and  listens 
with  a  good  deal  of  simplicity  and  faith,  smiling  be 
tween  whiles ;  a  mechanic  of  the  town ;  several  decent- 
looking  girls  and  women,  who  eye  Ellen  herself  with 
more  interest  than  the  other  figures,  —  women  having 
much  curiosity  about  such  ladies  ;  a  gentlemanly  sort 
of  person,  who  looks  somewhat  ashamed  of  himself 
for  being  there,  and  glances  at  me  knowingly,  as  if  to 
intimate  that  he  was  conscious  of  being  out  of  place  ; 
a  boy  or  two,  and  myself,  who  examine  wax  faces  and 
faces  of  flesh  with  equal  interest.  A  political  or  other 
satire  might  be  made  by  describing  a  show  of  wax- 
figures  of  the  prominent  public  men,;  and  by  the  re. 
marks  of  the  showman  and  the  spectators,  their  char 
acters  and  public  standing  might  be  expressed.  And 

the  incident  of  Judge  Tyler  as  related  by  E might 

be  introduced. 

A  series  of  strange,  mysterious,  dreadful  events  to 
occur,  wholly  destructive  of  a  person's  happiness.  He 
to  impute  them  to  various  persons  and  causes,  but  ulti 
mately  finds  that  he  is  himself  the  sole  agent.  Moral, 
that  our  welfare  depends  on  ourselves. 

The  strange  incident  in  the  court  of  Charles  IX.  of 
France :  he  and  five  other  maskers  being  attired  in 
coats  of  linen  covered  with  pitch  and  bestuck  with 
flax  to  represent  hairy  savages.  They  entered  the 
hall  dancing,  the  five  being  fastened  together,  and  the 
king  in  front.  By  accident  the  five  were  set  on  fire 
with  a  torch.  Two  were  burned  to  death  on  the  spot, 
two  afterwards  died;  one  fled  to  the  buttery,  and 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  125 

jumped  into  a  vessel  of  water.     It  might  be  repre 
sented  as  the  fate  of  a  squad  of  dissolute  men. 

A  perception,  for  a  moment,  of  one's  eventual  and 
moral  self,  as  if  it  were  another  person,  —  the  obser 
vant  faculty  being  separated,  and  looking  intently  at 
the  qualities  of  the  character.  There  is  a  surprise 
when  this  happens,  —  this  getting  out  of  one's  self,  — 
and  then  the  observer  sees  how  queer  a  fellow  he  is. 

July  27th.  —  Left  home  [Salem]  on  the  23d  in 
stant.  To  Boston  by  stage,  and  took  the  afternoon 
cars  for  Worcester.  A  little  boy  returning  from  the 
city,  several  miles,  with  a  basket  of  empty  custard- 
cups,  the  contents  of  which  he  had  probably  sold  at 
the  depot.  Stopped  at  the  Temperance  House.  An 
old  gentleman,  Mr.  Phillips,  of  Boston,  got  into  con 
versation  with  me,  and  inquired  very  freely  as  to 
my  character,  tastes,  habits,  and  circumstances,  —  a 
freedom  sanctioned  by  his  age,  his  kindly  and  benefi 
cent  spirit,  and  the  wisdom  of  his  advice.  It  is  strange 
how  little  impertinence  depends  on  what  is  actually 
said,  but  rather  on  the  manner  and  motives  of  saying 
it.  "  I  want  to  do  you  good,"  said  he  with  warmth, 
after  becoming,  apparently,  moved  by  my  communica 
tions.  "  Well,  sir,"  replied  I,  "  I  wish  you  could,  for 
both  our  sakes ;  for  I  have  no  doubt  it  would  be  a 
great  satisfaction  to  you."  He  asked  the  most  direct 
questions  of  another  young  man;  for  instance,  "Are 
you  married?"  having  before  ascertained  that  point 
with  regard  to  myself.  He  told  me  by  all  means  to 
act,  in  whatever  way ;  observing  that  he  himself  would 
have  no  objection  to  be  a  servant,  if  no  other  mode 
of  action  presented  itself. 


126  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838, 

The  landlord  of  the  tavern,  a  decent,  active,  grave, 
attentive  personage,  giving  me  several  cards  of  his 
house  to  distribute  on  my  departure.  A  judge,  a 
stout,  hearty  country  squire,  looking  elderly ;  a  hale 
and  rugged  man,  in  a  black  coat,  and  thin,  light  pan 
taloons. 

Started  for  Northampton  at  half  past  nine  in  the 
morning.  A  respectable  sort  of  man  and  his  son  on 
their  way  to  Niagara,  —  grocers,  I  believe,  and  calcu 
lating  how  to  perform  the  tour,  subtracting  as  few 
days  as  possible  from  the  shop.  Somewhat  inexpe 
rienced  travellers,  and  comparing  everything  advan 
tageously  or  otherwise  with  Boston  customs ;  and  con 
sidering  themselves  a  long  way  from  home,  while  yet 
short  of  a  hundred  miles  from  it.  Two  ladies,  rather 
good-looking.  I  rode  outside  nearly  all  day,  and  was 
very  sociable  with  the  driver  and  another  outside  pas 
senger.  Towards  night,  took  up  an  essence-vendor  for 
a  short  distance.  He  was  returning  home,  after  hav 
ing  been  out  on  a  tour  two  or  three  weeks,  and  nearly 
exhausted  his  stock.  He  was  not  exclusively  an  es 
sence-pedlar,  having  a  large  tin  box.  which  had  been 
filled  with  dry  goods,  combs,  jewelry,  etc.,  now  mostly 
sold  out.  His  essences  were  of  aniseseed,  cloves,  red" 
cedar,  wormwood,  together  with  opodeldoc,  and  an  oil 
for  the  hair.  These  matters  are  concocted  at  Ash- 
field,  and  the  pedlars  are  sent  about  with  vast  quan 
tities.  Cologne-water  is  among  the  essences  manufac 
tured,  though  the  bottles  have  foreign  labels  on  them. 
The  pedlar  was  good-natured  and  communicative,  and 
spoke  very  frankly  about  his  trade,  which  he  seemed 
to  like  better  than  farming,  though  his  experience  of 
it  is  yet  brief.  He  spoke  of  the  trials  of  temper  to 
which  pedlars  are  subjected,  but  said  that  it  was  neces 


,838.}  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  127 

sary  to  be  forbearing,  because  the  same  road  must  be 
travelled  again  and  again.  The  pedlars  find  satisfac 
tion  for  all  contumelies  in  making  good  bargains  out 
of  their  customers.  This  man  was  a  pedlar  in  quite  a 
small  way,  making  but  a  narrow  circuit,  and  carrying 
no  more  than  an  open  basket  full  of  essences ;  but 
some  go  out  with  wagon-loads.  He  himself  content 
plated  a  trip  westward,  in  which  case  he  would  send 
on  quantities  of  his  wares  ahead  to  different  stations. 
He  seemed  to  enjoy  the  intercourse  and  seeing  of  the 
world.  He  pointed  out  a  rough  place  in  the  road, 
where  his  stock  of  essences  had  formerly  been  broken 
by  a  jolt  of  the  stage.  What  a  waste  of  sweet  smells 
on  the  desert  air !  The  essence-labels  stated  the  effi 
cacy  of  the  stuffs  for  various  complaints  of  children 
and  grown  people.  The  driver  was  an  acquaintance 
of  the  pedlar,  and  so  gave  liim  his  drive  for  nothing, 
though  the  pedlar  pretended  to  wish  to  force  some 
silver  into  his  hand  ;  and  afterwards  he  got  down  to 
water  the  horses,  while  the  driver  was  busied  with 
other  matters.  This  driver  was  a  little,  dark  raga 
muffin,  apparently  of  irascible  temper,  speaking  with 
great  disapprobation  of  his  way-bill  not  being  timed 
accurately,  but  so  as  to  make  it  appear  as  if  he  were 
longer  upon  the  road  than  he  was.  As  he  spoke,  the 
blood  darkened  in  his  cheek,  and  his  eye  looked  omi 
nous  and  angry,  as  if  he  were  enraged  with  the  person 
to  whom  he  was  speaking ;  yet  he  had  not  real  grit, 
for  he  had  never  said  a  word  of  his  grievances  to 
those  concerned.  "  I  mean  to  tell  them  of  it  by  and 
by.  I  won't  bear  it  more  than  three  or  four  times 
more,"  said  he. 

Left  Northampton  the  next  morning,  between  one 
and  two  o'clock.     Three  other  passengers,  whose  faces 


128  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838. 

were  not  visible  for  some  hours  ;  so  we  went  on 
through  unknown  space,  saying  nothing,  glancing 
forth  sometimes  to  see  the  gleam  of  the  lanterns  on 
wayside  objects. 

How  very  desolate  looks  a  forest  when  seen  in 
this  way,  —  as  if,  should  you  venture  one  step  within 
its  wild,  tangled,  many-stemmed,  and  dark-shadowed 
verge,  you  would  inevitably  be  lost  forever.  Some' 
times  we  passed  a  house,  or  rumbled  through  a  village, 
stopping  perhaps  to  arouse  some  drowsy  postmaster, 
who  appeared  at  the  door  in  shirt  and  pantaloons, 
yawning,  received  the  mail,  returned  it  again,  and  was 
yawning  when  last  seen.  A  few  words  exchanged 
among  the  passengers,  as  they  roused  themselves  from 
their  half-slumbers,  or  dreamy,  slumber-like  abstrac 
tion.  Meantime  dawn  broke,  our  faces  became  par 
tially  visible,  the  morning  air  grew  colder,  and  finally 
cloudy  day  came  on.  We  found  ourselves  driving 
through  quite  a  romantic  country,  with  hills  or  moun 
tains  on  all  sides,  a  stream  on  one  side,  bordered  by  a 
high,  precipitous  bank,  up  which  would  have  grown 
pines,  only  that,  losing  their  footholds,  many  of  them 
had  slipped  downward.  The  road  was  not  the  safest 
in  the  world ;  for  often  the  carriage  approached  with 
in  two  or  three  feet  of  a  precipice ;  but  the  driver,  a 
merry  fellow,  lolled  on  his  box,  with  his  feet  protrud 
ing  horizontally,  and  rattled  on  at  the  rate  of  ten 
miles  an  hour.  Breakfast  between  four  and  five, — 
newly  caught  trout,  salmon,  ham,  boiled  eggs,  and 
other  niceties,  —  truly  excellent.  A  bunch  of  pick 
erel,  intended  for  a  tavern-keeper  farther  on,  was 
carried  by  the  stage-driver.  The  drivers  carry  a 
M  time-watch  "  enclosed  in  a  small  wooden  case,  with 
a  lock,  so  that  it  may  be  known  in  what  time  they 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  129 

perform  their  stages.  They  are  allowed  sc  many 
hours  and  minutes  to  do  their  work,  and  their  desire 
to  go  as  fast  as  possible,  combined  with  that  of  keep 
ing  their  horses  in  good  order,  produces  about  a  right 
medium. 

One  of  the  passengers  was  a  young  man  who  had 
been  in  Pennsylvania,  keeping  a  school,  —  a  genteel 
enough  young  man,  but  not  a  gentleman.  He  took 
neither  supper  nor  breakfast,  excusing  himself  from 
one  as  being  weary  with  riding  all  day,  and  from  the 
other  because  it  was  so  early.  He  attacked  me  for  a 
subscription  for  "  building  up  a  destitute  church,"  of 
which  he  had  taken  an  agency,  and  had  collected  two 
or  three  hundred  dollars,  but  wanted  as  many  thou 
sands.  Betimes  in  the  morning,  on  the  descent  of  a 
mountain,  we  arrived  at  a  house  where  dwelt  the 
married  sister  of  the  young  man,  whom  he  was  going 
to  visit. 

He  alighted,  saw  his  trunk  taken  off,  and  then,  hav 
ing  perceived  his  sister  at  the  door,  and  turning  to  bid 
us  farewell,  there  was  a  broad  smile,  even  a  laugh  of 
pleasure,  which  did  him  more  credit  with  me  than  any 
thing  else ;  for  hitherto  there  had  been  a  disagreeable 
scornful  twist  upon  his  face,  perhaps,  however,  merely 
superficial.  I  saw,  as  the  stage  drove  off,  his  comely 
sister  approaching  with  a  lighted-up  face  to  greet  him, 
and  one  passenger  on  the  front  seat  beheld  them  meet. 
*  Is  it  an  affectionate  greeting  ?  "  inquired  I.  "  Yes," 
gaid  he,  "  I  should  like  to  share  it "  ;  whereby  I  con 
cluded  that  there  was  a  kiss  exchanged. 

The  highest  point  of  our  journey  was  at  Windsor, 
where  we  could  see  leagues  around  over  the  mountain, 
a  terribly  bare,  bleak  spot,  fit  for  nothing  but  sheep, 
and  without  shelter  of  woods.  We  rattled  downward 


130  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS. 

into  a  warmer  region,  beholding  as  we  went  the  sun 
sliiniiig  on  portions  of  the  landscape,  miles  ahead  of 
us,  while  we  were  yet  in  dullness  and  gioom.  It  is 
probable  that  during  a  part  of  the  stage  the  mists 
around  us  looked  like  sky  clouds  to  those  in  the  lower 
regions.  Think  of  driving  a  stage-coach  through  the 
clouds  !  Seasonably  in  the  forenoon  we  arrived  at 
Pittsfield. 

Pittsfield  is  a  large  village,  quite  shut  in  by  moun 
tain  walls,  generally  extending  like  a  rampart  on  all 
sides  of  it,  but  with  insulated  great  hills  rising  here 
and  there  in  the  outline.  The  area  of  the  town  is 
level ;  its  houses  are  handsome,  mostly  wooden  and 
white  ;  but  some  are  of  brick,  painted  deep  red,  the 
bricks  being  not  of  a  healthy,  natural  color.  There 
are  handsome  churches,  Gothic  and  others,  and  a 
court-house  and  an  academy;  the  court-house  having 
a  marble  front.  There  is  a  small  mall  in  the  cen 
tre  of  the  town,  and  in  the  centre  of  the  mall  rises  an 
elm  of  the  loftiest  and  straightest  stem  that  ever  I 
beheld,  without  a  branch  or  leaf  upon  it  till  it  has 
soared  seventy  or  perhaps  a  hundred  feet  into  the  air. 
The  top  branches  unfortunately  have  been  shattered 
somehow  or  other,  so  that  it  does  not  cast  a  broad 
shade ;  probably  they  were  broken  by  their  own  pon 
derous  foliage.  The  central  square  of  Pittsfield  pre-* 
sents  all  the  bustle  of  a  thriving  village,  —  the  farmers 
of  the  vicinity  in  light  wagons,  sulkies,  or  on  horse 
back  ;  stages  at  the  door  of  the  Berkshire  Hotel,  under 
the  stoop  of  which  sit  or  lounge  the  guests,  stage-peo 
ple,  and  idlers,  observing  or  assisting  in  the  arrivals 
and  departures.  Huge  trunks  and  bandboxes  unladed 
and  laded.  The  courtesy  shown  to  ladies  in  aiding 
them  to  alight,  in  a  shower,  under  umbrellas.  Tha  dull 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  131 

looks  of  passengers,  who  have  driven  all  night,  scarcely 
brightened  by  the  excitement  of  arriving  at  a  new 
place.  The  stage  agent  demanding  the  names  of  those 
who  are  going  on,  —  some  to  Lebanon  Springs,  some 
to  Albany.  The  toddy-stick  is  still  busy  at  these  Berk 
shire  public-houses.  At  dinner  soup  preliminary,  in 
city  style.  Guests  :  the  court  people ;  Briggs,  member 
of  Congress,  attending  a  trial  here ;  horse-dealers, 
country  squires,  store-keepers  in  the  village,  etc.  My 
room,  a  narrow  crib  overlooking  a  back  court-yard, 
where  a  young  man  and  a  lad  were  drawing  water  for 
the  maid-servants,  —  their  jokes,  especially  those  of 
the  lad,  of  whose  wit  the  elder  fellow,  being  a  block 
head  himself,  was  in  great  admiration,  and  declared  to 
another  that  he  knew  as  much  as  them  both.  Yet  he 
was  not  very  witty.  Once  in  a  while  the  maid-ser 
vants  would  come  to  the  door,  and  hear  and  respond 
to  their  jokes,  with  a  kind  of  restraint,  yet  both  per 
mitting  and  enjoying  them. 

After  or  about  sunset  there  was  a  heavy  shower,  the 
thunder  rumbling  round  and  round  the  mountain  wall, 
and  the  clouds  stretching  from  rampart  to  rampart. 
When  it  abated,  the  clouds  in  all  parts  of  the  visible 
heavens  were  tinged  with  glory  from  the  west ;  some 
that  hung  low  being  purple  and  gold,  while  the  higher 
ones  were  gray.  The  slender  curve  of  the  new  moon 
was  also  visible,  brightening  amidst  the  fading  bright 
ness  of  the  sunny  part  of  the  sky.  There  are  marble- 
quarries  in  and  near  Pittsfield,  which  accounts  for  the 
fact  that  there  are  none  but  marble  gravestones  in  the 
burial-grounds ;  some  of  the  monuments  well  carved ; 
but  the  marble  does  not  withstand  the  wear  and  tear 
of  time  and  weather  so  well  as  the  imported  marble, 
and  the  sculpture  soon  loses  its  sharp  outline.  The 


132  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1833, 

door  of  one  tomb,  a  wooden  door,  opening  in  the  side 
of  a  green  mound,  surmounted  by  a  marble  obelisk, 
having  been  shaken  from  its  hinges  by  the  late  explo 
sion  of  the  powder-house,  and  incompletely  repaired,  I 
peeped  in  at  the  crevices,  and  saw  the  coffins.  It  was 
the  tomb  of  Rev.  Thomas  Allen,  first  minister  of  Pitts- 
field,  deceased  in  1810.  It  contained  three  coffins,  all 
with  white  mould  on  their  tops :  one,  a  small  child's, 
rested  upon  another,  and  the  other  was  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  tomb,  and  the  lid  was  considerably  dis 
placed  ;  but  the  tomb  being  dark,  I  could  see  neither 
corpse  nor  skeleton. 

Marble  also  occurs  here  in  North  Adams,  and  thus 
some  very  ordinary  houses  have  marble  doorsteps,  and 
even  the  stone  walls  are  built  of  fragments  of  marble. 

Wednesday,  26th.  —  Left  Pittsfield  at  about  eight 
o'clock  in  the  Bennington  stage,  intending  to  go  to 
Williamstown.  Inside  passengers,  —  a  new-married 
couple  taking  a  jaunt.  The  lady,  with  a  clear,  pale 
complexion,  and  a  rather  pensive  cast  of  countenance, 
slender,  and  with  a  genteel  figure  ;  the  bridegroom,  a 
shopkeeper  in  New  York  probably,  a  young  man  with 
a  stout  black  beard,  black  eyebrows,  which  formed 
one  line  across  his  forehead.  They  were  very  loving ; 
and  while  the  stage  stopped,  I  watched  them,  quite 
entranced  in  each  other,  both  leaning  sideways  against 
the  back  of  the  coach,  and  perusing  their  mutual  come 
liness,  and  apparently  making  complimentary  observa 
tions  upon  it  to  one  another.  The  bride  appeared  the 
most  absorbed  and  devoted,  referring  her  whole  being 
to  him.  The  gentleman  seemed  in  a  most  paradisiacal 
mood,  smiling  ineffably  upon  his  bride,  and,  when  she 
spoke,  responding  to  her  with  a  benign  expression  ol 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  133 

matrimonial  sweetness,  and,  as  it  were,  compassion  for 
the  "weaker  vessel,"  mingled  with  great  love  and 
pleasant  humor.  It  was  very  droll.  The  driver  peeped 
into  the  coach  once,  and  said  that  he  had  his  arm 
round  her  waist.  He  took  little  freedoms  with  her, 
tapping  her  with  his  cane,  —  love  -  pats ;  and  she 
seemed  to  see  nothing  amiss.  They  kept  eating  gin 
gerbread  all  along  the  road,  and  dined  heartily  not 
withstanding. 

Our  driver  was  a  slender,  lathe-like,  round-backed, 
rough-bearded,  thin-visaged,  middle-aged  Yankee,  who 
became  very  communicative  during  our  drive.  He 
was  not  bred  a  stage-driver,  but  had  undertaken  the 
business  temporarily,  as  a  favor  to  his  brother-in-law. 
He  was  a  native  of  these  Berkshire  mountains,  but 
had  formerly  emigrated  to  Ohio,  and  had  returned  for 
a  time  to  try  the  benefit  of  her  native  air  on  his  wife's 
declining  health,  —  she  having  complaints  of  a  con 
sumptive  nature.  He  pointed  out  the  house  where  he 
was  married  to  her,  and  told  the  name  of  the  country 
squire  who  tied  the  knot.  His  wife  has  little  or  no 
chance  of  recovery,  and  he  said  he  would  never  marry 
again,  —  this  resolution  being  expressed  in  answer  to 
a  remark  of  mine  relative  to  a  second  marriage.  He 
has  no  children.  I  pointed  to  a  hill  at  some  distance 
before  us,  and  asked  what  it  was.  "  That,  sir,"  said 
he,  "  is  a  very  high  hill.  It  is  known  by  the  name  of 
Gray  lock."  He  seemed  to  feel  that  this  was  a  more 
poetical  epithet  than  Saddleback,  which  is  a  more 
usual  name  for  it.  Graylock,  or  Saddleback,  is  quite 
a  respectable  mountain ;  and  I  suppose  the  former 
name  has  been  given  to  it  because  it  often  has  a  gray 
cloud,  or  lock  of  gray  mist,  upon  its  head.  It  does 
not  ascend  into  a  peak,  but  heaves  up  a  round  baU, 


134  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838. 

and  has  supporting  ridges  on  each  side.  Its  summit 
is  not  bare,  like  that  of  Mount  Washington,  but  cov 
ered  with  forests.  The  driver  said,  that  several  years 
since  the  students  of  Williams  College  erected  a  build 
ing  for  an  observatory  on  the  top  of  the  mountain,  and 
employed  him  to  haul  the  materials  for  constructing 
it ;  and  he  was  the  only  man  who  had  driven  an  ox- 
team  up  Gray  lock.  It  was  necessary  to  drive  the  team 
round  and  round,  in  ascending.  President  Griffin 
rode  up  on  horseback. 

Along  our  road  we  passed  villages,  and  often  facto 
ries,  the  machinery  whirring,  and  girls  looking  out  of 
the  windows  at  the  stage,  with  heads  averted  from  their 
tasks,  but  still  busy.  These  factories  have  two,  three, 
or  more  boarding-houses  near  them,  two  stories  high, 
and  of  double  length,  —  often  with  bean- vines  running 
tip  round  the  doors,  and  with  altogether  a  domestic 
look.  There  are  several  factories  in  different  parts  of 
North  Adams,  along  the  banks  of  a  stream,  —  a  wild, 
highland  rivulet,  which,  however,  does  vast  work  of 
a  civilized  nature.  It  is  strange  to  see  such  a  rough 
and  untamed  stream  as  it  looks  to  be  so  subdued  to 
the  purposes  of  man,  and  making  cottons  and  woollens, 
sawing  boards  and  marbles,  and  giving  employment 
to  so  many  men  and  girls.  And  there  is  a  sort  of  pict- 
uresqueness  in  finding  these  factories,  supremely  arti 
ficial  establishments,  in  the  midst  of  such  wild  scenery. 
For  now  the  stream  will  be  flowing  through  a  rude 
forest,  with  the  trees  erect  and  dark,  as  when  the  In 
dians  fished  there ;  and  it  brawls  and  tumbles  and  ed 
dies  over  its  rock-strewn  current.  Perhaps  there  is  a 
precipice,  hundreds  of  feet  high,  beside  it,  down  which, 
by  heavy  rains,  or  the  melting  of  snows,  great  pine- 
trees  have  slid  or  fallen  headlong,  and  lie  at  the  bofe 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  135 

torn,  or  half -way  down,  while  their  brethren  seem  to  be 
gazing  at  their  fall  from  the  summit,  and  anticipating 
a  like  fate.  And  then,  taking  a  turn  in  the  road,  be 
hold  these  factories  and  their  range  of  boarding-houses, 
with  the  girls  looking  out  of  the  windows,  as  afore 
said  !  And  perhaps  the  wild  scenery  is  all  around  the 
very  site  of  the  factory,  and  mingles  its  impression 
strangely  with  those  opposite  ones.  These  observa 
tions  were  made  during  a  walk  yesterday. 

I  bathed  in  a  pool  of  the  stream  that  was  out  of 
sight,  and  where  its  brawling  waters  were  deep  enough 
to  cover  me,  when  I  lay  at  length.  A  part  of  the  road 
along  which  I  walked  was  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice, 
falling  down  straight  towards  the  stream ;  and  in  one 
place  the  passage  of  heavy  loads  had  sunk  it,  so  that 
soon,  probably,  there  will  be  an  avalanche,  perhaps 
carrying  a  stage-coach  or  heavy  wagon  down  into  the 
bed  of  the  river. 

I  met  occasional  wayfarers  ;  once  two  women  in  a 
cart,  —  decent,  brown  -  visaged,  country  matrons,  — 
and  then  an  apparent  doctor,  of  whom  there  are  seven 
or  thereabouts  in  North  Adams  ;  for  though  this  vi 
cinity  is  very  healthy,  yet  the  physicians  are  obliged 
to  ride  considerable  distances  among  the  mountain 
towns,  and  their  practice  is  very  laborious.  A  nod  is 
always  exchanged  between  strangers  meeting  on  the 
road.  This  morning  an  underwitted  old  man  met  me 
on  a  walk,  and  held  a  pretty  long  conversation,  insist 
ing  upon  shaking  hands  (to  which  I  was  averse,  lest 
his  hand  should  not  be  clean),  and  insisting  on  hi? 
right  to  do  so,  as  being  "  a  friend  of  mankind."  He 
was  a  gray,  bald-headed,  wrinkled-visaged  figure,  de 
cently  dressed,  with  cowhide  shoes,  a  coat  on  one  arm, 
and  an  umbrella  on  the  other,  and  said  that  he  was 


136  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [183& 

going  to  see  a  widow  in  the  neighborhood.  Finding 
that  I  was  not  provided  with  a  wife,  he  recommended 
a  certain  maiden  of  forty  years,  who  had  three  hun 
dred  acres  of  land.  He  spoke  of  his  children,  who  are 
proprietors  of  a  circus  establishment,  and  have  taken 
a  granddaughter  to  bring  up  in  their  way  of  life  ;  and 
he  gave  me  a  message  to  tell  them  in  case  we  should 
meet.  While  this  old  man  is  wandering  among  the 
hills,  his  children  are  the  gaze  of  multitudes.  He  told 
me  the  place  where  he  was  born,  directing  me  to  it  by 
pointing  to  a  wreath  of  mist  which  lay  on  the  side  of 
a  mountain  ridge,  which  he  termed  "  the  smoke  yon 
der."  Speaking  of  the  widow,  he  said :  "  My  wife 
has  been  dead  these  seven  years,  and  why  should  I 
not  enjoy  myself  a  little  ?  "  His  manner  was  full  of 
quirks  and  quips  and  eccentricities,  waving  his  um 
brella,  and  gesticulating  strangely,  with  a  great  deal 
of  action.  I  suppose,  to  help  his  natural  foolishness, 
he  had  been  drinking.  We  parted,  he  exhorting  me 
not  to  forget  his  message  to  his  sons,  and  I  shouting 
after  him  a  request  to  be  remembered  to  the  widow. 
Conceive  something  tragical  to  be  talked  about,  and 
much  might  be  made  of  this  interview  in  a  wild  road 
among  the  hills,  with  Graylock,  at  a  great  distance, 
looking  sombre  and  angry,  by  reason  of  the  gray, 
heavy  mist  upon  his  head. 

The  morning  was  cloudy,  and  all  the  near  landscape 
lay  unsunned ;  but  there  was  sunshine  on  distant 
tracts,  in  the  valleys,  and  in  specks  upon  the  moun 
tain-tops.  Between  the  ridges  of  hills  there  are  long, 
wide,  deep  valleys,  extending  for  miles  and  miles,  with 
houses  scattered  along  them.  A  bulky  company  of 
mountains,  swelling  round  head  over  round  head,  rises 
insulated  by  such  broad  vales  from  the  surrounding 
»idges. 


1838.J  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  137 

I  ought  to  have  mentioned  that  I  arrived  at  North 
Adams  in  the  forenoon  of  the  26th,  and,  liking  the  as 
pect  of  matters  indifferently  well,  determined  to  make 
my  headquarters  here  for  a  short  time. 

On  the  road  to  Northampton,  we  passed  a  tame 
crow,  which  was  sitting  on  the  peak  of  a  barn.  The 
crow  flew  down  from  its  perch,  and  followed  us  a  great 
distance,  hopping  along  the  road,  and  flying  with  its 
large,  black,  flapping  wings,  from  post  to  post  of  the 
fence,  or  from  tree  to  tree.  At  last  he  gave  up  the 
pursuit  with  a  croak  of  disappointment.  The  driver 
said,  perhaps  correctly,  that  the  crow  had  scented  some 
salmon  which  was  in  a  basket  under  the  seat,  and  that 
this  was  the  secret  of  his  pursuing  us.  This  would  be 
a  terrific  incident  if  it  were  a  dead  body  that  the  crow 
scented,  instead  of  a  basket  of  salmon.  Suppose,  for 
instance,  in  a  coach  travelling  along,  that  one  of  the 
passengers  suddenly  should  die,  and  that  one  of  the 
indications  of  his  death  would  be  this  deportment  of 
the  crow. 

July  29^.  —  Remarkable  characters : — A  disagree 
able  figure,  waning  from  middle  age,  clad  in  a  pair  of 
tow  homespun  pantaloons,  and  a  very  soiled  shirt, 
barefoot,  and  with  one  of  his  feet  maimed  by  an  axe  ; 
also  an  arm  amputated  two  or  three  inches  below  the 
elbow.  His  beard  of  a  week's  growth,  grim  and 
grisly,  with  a  general  effect  of  black ;  altogether  a  dis 
gusting  object.  Yet  he  has  the  signs  of  having  been 
a  handsome  man  in  his  idea,  though  now  such  a  beastly 
figure  that  probably  no  living  thing  but  his  great  dog 
would  touch  him  without  an  effort.  Coining  to  the 
stoop,  where  several  persons  were  sitting,  "  Good 
morning,  gentlemen,''  said  the  wretch.  Nobody  ai* 


138  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838, 

swered  for  a  time,  till  at  last  one  said,  "  I  don't  kno\v 
whom  you  speak  to :  not  to  me,  I  'm  sure  "  (meaning 
that  he  did  not  claim  to  be  a  gentleman).  "  Why  I 
thought  I  spoke  to  you  all  at  once,"  replied  the  figure, 
laughing.  So  he  sat  himself  down  on  the  lower  step 
of  the  stoop,  and  began  to  talk ;  and,  the  conversation 
being  turned  upon  his  bare  feet  by  one  of  the  com 
pany,  he  related  the  story  of  his  losing  his  toes  by  the 
glancing  aside  of  an  axe,  and  with  what  great  forti 
tude  he  bore  it.  Then  he  made  a  transition  to  the  loss 
of  his  arm,  and,  setting  his  teeth  and  drawing  in  his 
breath,  said  that  the  pain  was  dreadful ;  but  this,  too, 
he  seems  to  have  borne  like  an  Indian  ;  and  a  person 
testified  to  his  fortitude  by  saying  that  he  did  not  sup 
pose  there  was  any  feeling  in  him,  from  observing 
how  he  bore  it.  The  man  spoke  of  the  pain  of  cut 
ting  the  muscles,  and  the  particular  agony  at  one  mo 
ment,  while  the  bone  was  being  sawed  asunder ;  and 
there  was  a  strange  expression  of  remembered  an 
guish,  as  he  shrugged  his  half -limb,  and  described  the 
matter.  Afterwards,  in  a  reply  to  a  question  of  mine, 
whether  he  still  seemed  to  feel  the  hand  that  had  been 
amputated,  he  answered  that  he  did  always ;  and,  bar< 
ing  the  stump,  he  moved  the  severed  muscles,  saying, 
"  There  is  the  thumb,  there  the  forefinger,"  and  so  011. 
Then  he  talked  to  me  about  phrenology,  of  which  he 
seems  a  firm  believer  and  skilful  practitioner,  telling 
how  he  had  hit  upon  the  true  character  of  many  peo 
ple.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  sense  and  acuteness 
in  his  talk,  and  something  of  elevation  in  his  expres 
sions,  —  perhaps  a  studied  elevation,  —  and  a  sort  of 
courtesy  in  his  manner ;  but  his  sense  had  something 
out  of  the  way  in  it ;  there  was  something  wild  and 
ruined  and  desperate  in  his  talk,  though  I  can  hardly 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  139 

say  what  it  was.  There  was  a  trace  of  the  gentleman 
and  man  of  intellect  through  his  deep  degradation  ;  and 
a  pleasure  in  intellectual  pursuits,  and  an  acuteness 
and  trained  judgment,  which  bespoke  a  mind  once 
strong  and  cultivated.  "  My  study  is  man,"  said  he. 
And,  looking  at  me,  "  I  do  not  know  your  name,"  he 
said,  "  but  there  is  something  of  the  hawk-eye  about 
you,  too." 

This  man  was  formerly  a  lawyer  in  good  practice  ; 
but,  taking  to  drinking,  was  reduced  to  the  lowest 
state.  Yet  not  the  lowest ;  for  after  the  amputation 
of  his  arm,  being  advised  by  divers  persons  to  throw 
himself  upon  the  public  for  support,  he  told  them 
that,  even  if  he  should  lose  his  other  arm,  he  would 
still  be  able  to  support  himself  and  a  servant.  Cer 
tainly  he  is  a  strong-minded  and  iron-constitutioned 
man ;  but,  looking  at  the  stump  of  his  arm,  he  said 
that  the  pain  of  the  mind  was  a  thousand  times  greater 
than  the  pain  of  the  body.  "  That  hand  could  make 
the  pen  go  fast,"  said  he.  Among  people  in  general, 
he  does  not  seem  to  have  any  greater  consideration  in 
his  ruin  because  of  his  former  standing  in  society.  He 
supports  himself  by  making  soap ;  and,  on  account  of 
the  offals  used  in  that  business,  there  is  probably 
rather  an  evil  odor  in  his  domicile.  Talking  about  a 
dead  horse  near  his  house,  he  said  that  he  could  not 
bear  the  scent  of  it.  "  I  should  not  think  you  could 
smell  carrion  in  that  house,"  said  a  stage  agent. 
Whereupon  the  soap-maker  dropped  his  head,  with  a 
little  snort,  as  it  were,  of  wounded  feeling ;  but  imme 
diately  said  that  he  took  all  in  good  part.  There  was 
an  old  squire  of  the  village,  a  lawyer  probably,  whose 
demeanor  was  different,  —  with  a  distance,  yet  with  a 
kindliness ;  for  he  remembered  the  times  when  they 


140  AMERICAN'  NOTE-BOOKS.  [188& 

met  on  equal  terms.  "  You  and  I,"  said  the  squire, 
alluding  to  their  respective  troubles  and  sicknesses, 
"  would  have  died  long  ago,  if  we  had  not  had  the  cour 
age  to  live."  The  poor  devil  kept  talking  to  me  long 
after  everybody  else  had  left  the  stoop,  giving  vent  to 
much  practical  philosophy,  and  just  observation  on  the 
ways  of  men,  mingled  with  rather  more  assumption  of 
literature  and  cultivation  than  belonged  to  the  present 
condition  of  his  mind.  Meantime  his  great  dog,  a 
cleanly  looking  and  not  ill-bred  dog,  being  the  only 
decent  attribute  appertaining  to  his  master,  —  a  well, 
natured  dog,  too,  and  receiving  civilly  any  demonstra 
tion  of  courtesy  from  other  people,  though  preserving  a 
certain  distance  of  deportment,  —  this  great  dog  grew 
weary  of  his  master's  lengthy  talk,  and  expressed  his 
impatience  to  be  gone  by  thrusting  himself  between 
his  legs,  rolling  over  on  his  back,  seizing  his  ragged 
trousers,  or  playfully  taking  his  maimed,  bare  foot 
into  his  mouth,  —  using,  in  short,  the  kindly  and  hu 
morous  freedom  of  a  friend,  with  a  wretch  to  whom 
all  are  free  enough,  but  none  other  kind.  His  master 
rebuked  him,  but  with  kindness  too,  and  not  so  that 
the  dog  felt  himself  bound  to  desist,  though  he  seemed 
willing  to  allow  his  master  all  the  time  that  could  pos^ 
sibly  be  spared.  And  at  last,  having  said  many  times 
that  he  must  go  and  shave  and  dress  himself,  —  and  as 
his  beard  had  been  at  least  a  week  growing,  it  might 
have  seemed  almost  a  week's  work  to  get  rid  of  it,  — • 
he  rose  from  the  stoop  and  went  his  way,  —  a  forlorn 
and  miserable  thing  in  the  light  of  the  cheerful  sum 
mer  morning.  Yet  he  seems  to  keep  his  spirits  up, 
and  still  preserves  himself  a  man  among  men,  asking 
nothing  from  them ;  nor  is  it  clearly  perceptible  what 
right  they  have  to  scorn  him,  though  he  seems  to  ao 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  141 

quiesce,  in  a  manner,  in  their  doing  so.  And  yet  lie 
cannot  wholly  have  lost  his  self-respect ;  and  doubtless 
there  were  persons  on  the  stoop  more  grovelling  than 
himself. 

Another  character  :  —  A  blacksmith  of  fifty  or  up 
wards,  a  corpulent  figure,  big  in  the  paunch  and  enor 
mous  in  the  rear ;  yet  there  is  such  an  appearance  of 
strength  and  robustness  in  his  frame,  that  his  corpu 
lence  appears  very  proper  and  necessary  to  him.  A 
pound  of  flesh  could  not  be  spared  from  his  abun 
dance,  any  more  than  from  the  leanest  man ;  and  he 
walks  about  briskly,  without  any  panting  or  symptom 
of  labor  or  pain  in  his  motion.  He  has  a  round,  jolly 
face,  always  mirthful  and  humorous  and  shrewd,  and 
the  air  of  a  man  well  to  do,  and  well  respected,  yet 
not  caring  much  about  the  opinions  of  men,  because 
his  independence  is  sufficient  to  itself.  Nobody  would 
take  him  for  other  than  a  man  of  some  importance  in 
the  community,  though  his  summer  dress  is  a  tow-cloth 
pair  of  pantaloons,  a  shirt  not  of  the  cleanest,  open  at 
the  breast,  and  the  sleeves  rolled  up  at  the  elbows,  and 
a  straw  hat.  There  is  not  such  a  vast  difference  be 
tween  this  costume  and  that  of  Lawyer  H above 

mentioned,  yet  never  was  there  a  greater  diversity  of 
appearance  than  between  these  two  men ;  and  a  glance 
at  them  would  be  sufficient  to  mark  the  difference. 
The  blacksmith  loves  his  glass,  and  comes  to  the  tav 
ern  for  it,  whenever  it  seems  good  to  him,  not  calling 
for  it  slyly  and  shyly,  but  marching  steadily  to  the 
bar,  or  calling  across  the  room  for  it  to  be  prepared. 
He  speaks  with  great  bitterness  against  the  new  li 
cense  law,  and  vows  if  it  be  not  repealed  by  fail 
means  it  shall  be  by  violence,  and  that  he  will  be  as 
ready  to  cock  his  rifle  for  such  a  cause  as  for  any 


142  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838 

other.  On  this  subject  his  talk  is  really  fierce  ;  but 
as  to  all  other  matters  he  is  good-natured  and  good- 
hearted,  fond  of  joke,  and  shaking  his  jolly  sides  with 
frequent  laughter.  His  conversation  has  much  strong, 
unlettered  sense,  imbued  with  humor,  as  everybody's 
talk  is  in  New  England. 

He  takes  a  queer  position  sometimes,  —  queer  for 
his  figure  particularly,  —  straddling  across  a  chair, 
facing  the  back,  with  his  arms  resting  thereon,  and 
his  chin  on  them,  for  the  benefit  of  conversing  closely 
with  some  one.  When  he  has  spent  as  much  time 
in  the  bar-room  or  under  the  stoop  as  he  chooses  to 
spare,  he  gets  up  at  once,  and  goes  off  with  a  brisk, 
vigorous  pace.  He  owns  a  mill,  and  seems  to  be  pros 
perous  in  the  world.  I  know  no  man  who  seems  more 
like  a  man,  more  indescribably  human,  than  this  sturdy 
blacksmith. 

There  came  in  the  afternoon  a  respectable  man  in 
gray  homespun  cloth,  who  arrived  in  a  wagon,  I  be 
lieve,  and  began  to  inquire,  after  supper,  about  a  cer 
tain  new  kind  of  mill  machinery.  Being  referred  to 
the  blacksmith,  who  owned  one  of  these  mills,  the 
stranger  said  that  he  had  come  from  Vermont  to  learn 
about  the  matter.  "  What  may  I  call  your  name  ?  " 
said  he  to  the  blacksmith.  "  My  name  is  Hodge,"  re 
plied  the  latter.  "  I  believe  I  have  heard  of  you," 
said  the  stranger.  Then  they  colloquied  at  much 
length  about  the  various  peculiarities  and  merits  of 
the  new  invention.  The  stranger  continued  here  two 
or  three  days,  making  his  researches,  and  forming  ac 
quaintance  with  several  millwrights  and  others.  He 
was  a  man  evidently  of  influence  in  his  neighborhood, 
and  the  tone  of  his  conversation  was  in  the  style  of 
wie  accustomed  to  be  heard  with  deference,  though  alJ 


7»a8.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOORS.  143 

ii>  a  plain  and  homely  way.  Lawyer  H —  took  no 
tice  of  this  manner ;  for  the.  talk  being  about  the  na 
ture  of  soap,  and  the  evil  odor  arising  from  that  pro 
cess,  the  stranger  joined  in.  "  There  need  not  be  any 
disagreeable  smell  in  making  soap,"  said  he.  "Now 

we  are  to  receive  a  lesson,"  said  H ,  and  the  re- 

maik  was  particularly  apropos  to  the  large  wisdom  of 
the  stranger's  tone  and  air. 

Then  he  gave  an  account  of  the  process  in  his  do 
mestic  establishment,  saying  that  he  threw  away  the 
whole  offals  of  the  hog,  as  not  producing  any  soap, 
and  preserved  the  skins  of  the  intestines  for  sausages. 
He  seemed  to  be  hospitable,  inviting  those  with  whom 
he  did  business  to  take  "a  mouthful  of  dinner"  with 
him,  and  treating  them  with  liquors  ;  for  he  was  not 
an  utter  temperance  man,  though  moderate  in  his  pota 
tions.  I  suspect  he  would  turn  out  a  pattern  character 
of  the  upper  class  of  New  England  yeomen,  if  I  had  an 
opportunity  of  studying  him.  Doubtless  he  had  been 
selectman,  representative,  and  justice,  and  had  filled 
all  but  weighty  offices.  He  was  highly  pleased  with 
the  new  mill  contrivance,  and  expressed  his  opinion 
that,  when  his  neighbors  saw  the  success  of  his,  it 
would  be  extensively  introduced  into  that  vicinity. 

Mem.  The  hostlers  at  taverns  call  the  money  given 
them  "  pergasus,"  —  corrupted  from  "  perquisites." 
Otherwise  "  knock-down  money." 

Remarkable  character :  —  A  travelling  surgeon-den 
tist,  who  has  taken  a  room  in  the  North  Adams  House, 
and  sticks  up  his  advertising  bills  on  the  pillars  of  the 
piazza,  and  all  about  the  town.  He  is  a  tall,  slim 
young  man,  six  feet  two,  dressed  in  a  country-made 
coat  of  light  blue  (taken,  as  he  tells  me,  in  exchange 
for  dental  operations),  black  pantaloons,  and  clumsy, 


144  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838 

cowhide  boots.  Self-conceit  is  very  strongly  expressed 
in  his  air  ;  and  a  doctor  once  told  him  that  he  owec 
his  life  to  that  quality ;  for,  by  keeping  himself  sc 
stiffly  upright,  he  opens  his  chest,  and  counteracts 
a  consumptive  tendency.  He  is  not  only  a  dentist 
which  trade  he  follows  temporarily,  but  a  licensee 
preacher  of  the  Baptist  persuasion,  and  is  now  on  his 
way  to  the  West  to  seek  a  place  of  settlement  in  his 
spiritual  vocation.  Whatever  education  he  possesses, 
he  has  acquired  by  his  own  exertions  since  the  age  oi 
twenty-one,  —  he  being  now  twenty  -  four.  We  tall 
together  very  freely  :  and  he  has  given  me  an  account, 
among  other  matters,  of  all  his  love-affairs,  which  are 
rather  curious,  as  illustrative  of  the  life  of  a  smari 
young  country  fellow  in  relation  to  the  gentle  sex, 
Nothing  can  exceed  the  exquisite  self-conceit  which 
characterizes  these  confidences,  and  which  is  expressed 
inimitably  in  his  face,  his  upturned  nose,  and  mouth, 
so  as  to  be  truly  a  caricature  ;  and  he  seems  strangely 
to  find  as  much  food  for  his  passion  in  having  been 
jilted  once  or  twice  as  in  his  conquests.  It  is  curious 
to  notice  his  revengeful  feeling  against  the  false  ones. 
—  hidden  from  himself,  however,  under  the  guise  oi 
religious  interest,  and  desire  that  they  may  be  cured 
of  their,  follies. 

A  little  boy  named  Joe,  who  haunts  about  the  bar 
room  and  the  stoop,  four  years  old,  in  a  thin,  short 
jacket,  and  full-breeched  trousers,  and  bare  feet.  The 
men  tease  him,  and  put  quids  of  tobacco  in  his  mouth, 
under  pretence  of  giving  him  a  fig ;  and  he  gets  en 
raged,  and  utters  a  peculiar,  sharp,  spiteful  cry,  and 
strikes  at  them  with  a  stick,  to  their  great  mirth.  He 
is  always  in  trouble,  yet  will  not  keep  away.  They 
despatch  him  with  two  or  three  cents  to  buy 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  145 

and  nuts  and  raisins.  They  set  him  down  in  a  niche 
of  the  door,  and  tell  him  to  remain  there  a  day  and 
a  half :  he  sits  down  very  demurely,  as  if  he  meant  to 
fulfil  his  penance  ;  but  a  moment  after,  behold  !  there 
is  little  Joe  capering  across  the  street  to  join  two  or 
three  boys  who  are  playing  in  a  wagon.  Take  this 
boy  as  the  germ  of  a  tavern-haunter,  a  country  rou£, 
to  spend  a  wild  and  brutal  youth,  ten  years  of  his 
prime  in  the  State  Prison,  and  his  old  age  in  the  poor- 
house. 

There  are  a  great  many  dogs  kept  in  the  village, 
and  many  of  the  travellers  also  have  dogs.  Some  are 
almost  always  playing  about ;  and  if  a  cow  or  a  pig  be 
passing,  two  or  three  of  them  scamper  forth  for  an  at 
tack.  Some  of  the  younger  sort  chase  pigeons,  wheel 
ing  as  they  wheel.  If  a  contest  arises  between  two 
dogs,  a  number  of  others  come  with  huge  barking  to 
join  the  fray,  though  I  believe  that  they  do  not  really 
take  any  active  part  in  the  contest,  but  swell  the  up 
roar  by  way  of  encouraging  the  combatants.  When 
a  traveller  is  starting  from  the  door,  Ms  dog  often 
gets  in  front  of  the  horse,  placing  his  forefeet  down, 
looking  the  horse  in  the  face,  and  barking  loudly; 
then,  as  the  horse  comes  on,  running  a  little  farther 
and  repeating  the  process ;  and  this  he  does  in  spite 
of  his  master's  remonstrances,  till,  the  horse  being 
fairly  started,  the  dog  follows  on  quietly.  One  dog,  a 
diminutive  little  beast,  has  been  taught  to  stand  on 
his  hind  legs,  and  rub  his  face  with  his  paw,  which 
he  does  with  an  aspect  of  much  endurance  and  depre 
cation.  Another  springs  at  people  whom  his  master 
points  out  to  him,  barking  and  pretending  to  bite. 
These  tricks  make  much  mirth  in  the  bar-room.  All 
dogs,  of  whatever  different  sizes  and  dissimilar  varie- 

VOL.  IX.  10 


148  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838 

fcies,  acknowledge  the  common  bond  of  species  among 
themselves,  and  the  largest  one  does  not  disdain  to 
suffer  his  tail  to  be  smelt  of,  nor  to  reciprocate  that 
courtesy  to  the  smallest.  They  appear  to  take  much 
interest  in  one  another  ;  but  there  is  always  a  degree 
of  caution  between  two  strange  dogs  when  they  meet. 

July  31s£.  —  A  visit  to  what  is  called  "  Hudson's 
Cave,"  or  "  Hudson's  Falls,"  the  tradition  being  that 
a  man  by  the  name  of  Henry  Hudson,  many  years 
ago,  chasing  a  deer,  the  deer  fell  over  the  place,  which 
then  first  became  known  to  white  men.  It  is  not 
properly  a  cave,  but  a  fissure  in  a  huge  ledge  of  mar 
ble,  through  which  a  stream  has  been  for  ages  forcing 
its  way,  and  has  left  marks  of  its  gradually  wearing 
power  on  the  tall  crags,  having  made  curious  hollows 
from  the  summit  down  to  the  level  which  it  has 
reached  at  the  present  day.  The  depth  of  the  fissure 
in  some  places  is  at  least  fifty  or  sixty  feet,  perhaps 
more,  and  at  several  points  it  nearly  closes  over,  and 
often  the  sight  of  the  sky  is  hidden  by  the  interpo 
sition  of  masses  of  the  marble  crags.  The  fissure  is 
very  irregular,  so  as  not  to  be  describable  in  words, 
and  scarcely  to  be  painted,  —  jutting  buttresses,  moss- 
grown,  impending  crags,  with  tall  trees  growing  on 
their  verge,  nodding  over  the  head  of  the  observer  at 
the  bottom  of  the  chasm,  and  rooted,  as  it  were,  in  air. 
The  part  where  the  water  works  its  way  down  is  very 
narrow;  but  the  chasm  widens,  after  the  descent,  so  as 
to  form  a  spacious  chamber  between  the  crags,  open  to 
the  sky,  and  its  floor  is  strewn  with  fallen  fragments 
of  marble,  and  trees  that  have  been  precipitated  long 
ago,  and  are  heaped  with  drift-wood,  left  there  by  th« 
freshets,  when  the  scanty  stream  becomes  a  consider 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  141 

able  waterfall.  One  crag,  with  a  narrow  ridge,  which 
might  be  climbed  without  much  difficulty,  protrudes 
from  the  middle  of  the  rock,  and  divides  the  fall. 
The  passage  through  the  cave  made  by  the  stream  is 
very  crooked,  and  interrupted,  not  only  by  fallen 
wrecks,  but  by  deep  pools  of  water,  which  probably 
have  been  forded  by  few.  As  the  deepest  pool  occurs 
in  the  most  uneven  part  of  the  chasm,  where  the  hol 
lows  in  the  sides  of  the  crag  are  deepest,  so  that  each 
hollow  is  almost  a  cave  by  itself,  I  determined  to 
wade  through  it.  There  was  an  accumulation  of  soft 
stuff  on  the  bottom,  so  that  the  water  did  not  look 
more  than  knee-deep ;  but,  finding  that  my  feet  sunk 
in  it,  I  took  off  my  trousers,  and  waded  through  up  to 
my  middle.  Thus  I  reached  the  most  interesting  part 
of  the  cave,  where  the  whirlings  of  the  stream  had 
left  the  marks  of  its  eddies  in  the  solid  marble,  all  up 
and  down  the  two  sides  of  the  chasm.  The  water  is 
now  dammed  for  the  construction  of  two  marble  saw 
mills,  else  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  effect  the 
passage ;  and  I  presume  that,  for  years  after  the  cave 
was  discovered,  the  waters  roared  and  tore  their  way 
in  a  torrent  through  this  part  of  the  chasm.  While  I 
was  there,  I  heard  voices,  and  a  small  stone  tumbled 
down;  and  looking  up  towards  the  narrow  strip  of 
bright  light,  and  the  sunny  verdure  that  peeped  over 
the  top,  —  looking  up  thither  from  the  deep,  gloomy 
depth,  —  I  saw  two  or  three  men ;  and,  not  liking  to 
be  to  them  the  most  curious  part  of  the  spectacle,  I 
waded  back,  and  put  on  my  clothes.  The  marble  crags 
are  overspread  with  a  concretion,  which  makes  them 
look  as  gray  as  granite,  except  where  the  continual 
flow  of  water  keeps  them  of  a  snowy  whiteness.  If 
they  were  so  white  all  over,  it  would  be  a  splendid 


148  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS. 

show.  There  is  a  marble-quarry  close  in  the  reai, 
above  the  cave,  and  in  process  of  time  the  whole  oi 
the  crags  will  be  quarried  into  tombstones,  doorsteps, 
fronts  of  edifices,  fireplaces,  etc.  That  will  be  a  pity. 
On  such  portions  of  the  walls  as  are  within  reach, 
visitors  have  sculptured  their  initials,  or  names  at  full 
length ;  and  the  white  letters  showing  plainly  on  the 
gray  surface,  they  have  more  obvious  effect  than  such 
inscriptions  generally  have.  There  was  formerly,  I 
believe,  a  complete  arch  of  marble,  forming  a  natural 
bridge  over  the  top  of  the  cave ;  but  this  is  no  longer 
so.  At  the  bottom  of  the  broad  chamber  of  the  cave, 
standing  in  its  shadow,  the  effect  of  the  morning  sun 
shine  on  the  dark  or  bright  foliage  of  the  pines  and 
other  trees  that  cluster  on  the  summits  of  the  crags 
was  particularly  beautiful ;  and  it  was  strange  how 
such  great  trees  had  rooted  themselves  in  solid  mar 
ble,  for  so  it  seemed. 

After  passing  through  this  romantic  and  most  pictur 
esque  spot,  the  stream  goes  onward  to  turn  factories. 
Here  its  voice  resounds  within  the  hollow  crags ;  there 
it  goes  onward,  talking  to  itself,  with  babbling  din, 
of  its  own  wild  thoughts  and  fantasies,  —  the  voice 
of  solitude  and  the  wilderness,  —  loud  and  continual, 
but  which  yet  does  not  seem  to  disturb  the  thought 
ful  wanderer,  so  that  he  forgets  there  is  a  noise.  It 
talks  along  its  storm-strewn  path ;  it  talks  beneath  tall 
precipices  and  high  banks,  —  a  voice  that  has  been 
the  same  for  innumerable  ages  ;  and  yet,  if  you  listen, 
you  will  perceive  a  continual  change  and  variety  in  its 
babble,  and  sometimes  it  seems  to  swell  louder  upon 
the  ear  than  at  others,  —  in  the  same  spot,  I  mean, 
By  and  by  man  makes  a  dam  for  it,  and  it  pours  over 
it,  still  making  its  voice  heard,  while  it  labors.  At 


183ft.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  149 

me  shop  for  manufacturing  the  marble,  I  saw  the 
disk  of  a  sundial  as  large  as  the  top  of  a  hogshead, 
intended  for  Williams  College  ;  also  a  small  obelisk, 
and  numerous  gravestones.  The  marble  is  coarse 
grained,  but  of  a  very  brilliant  whiteness.  It  is  rather 
a  pity  that  the  cave  is  not  formed  of  some  worthless 
stone. 

In  the  deep  valleys  of  the  neighborhood,  where  the 
shadows  at  sunset  are  thrown  from  mountain  to  moun 
tain,  the  clouds  have  a  beautiful  effect,  flitting  high 
over  them,  bright  with  heavenly  gold.  It  seems  as  if 
the  soul  might  rise  up  from  the  gloom,  and  alight 
upon  them  and  soar  away.  Walking  along  one  of  the 
valleys  the  other  evening,  while  a  pretty  fresh  breeze 
blew  across  it,  the  clouds  that  were  skimming  over  my 
head  seemed  to  conform  themselves  to  the  valley's 
shape. 

At  a  distance,  mountain  summits  look  close  together, 
almost  as  if  forming  one  mountain,  though  in  reality 
a  village  lies  in  the  depths  between  them. 

A  steam-engine  in  a  factory  to  be  supposed  to  pos 
sess  a  malignant  spirit.  It  catches  one  man's  arm, 
and  pulls  it  off ;  seizes  another  by  the  coat-tails,  and 
almost  grapples  him  bodily;  catches  a  girl  by  the 
hair,  and  scalps  her ;  and  finally  draws  in  a  man  and 
crushes  him  to  death. 

The  one-armed  soap-maker,  Lawyer  H ,  wears 

an  iron  hook,  which  serves  him  instead  of  a  hand 
for  the  purpose  of  holding  on.  They  nickname  him 
"  Black  Hawk." 

North  Adams  still.  —  The  village,  viewed  from  the 
top  of  a  hill  to  the  westward  at  sunset,  has  a  pecul 
iarly  happy  and  peaceful  look.  It  lies  on  a  level,  sur 
rounded  by  hills,  and  seems  as  if  it  lay  in  the  holloa 


150  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838. 

of  a  large  hand.  The  Union  Village  may  be  seen,  a 
manufacturing  place,  extending  up  a  gorge  of  the  hills. 
It  is  amusing  to  see  all  the  distributed  property  of  the 
aristocracy  and  commonalty,  the  various  and  conflict 
ing  interests  of  the  town,  the  loves  and  hates,  com 
pressed  into  a  space  which  the  eye  takes  in  as  com. 
pletely  as  the  arrangement  of  a  tea-table.  The  rush 
of  the  streams  comes  up  the  hill  somewhat  like  the 
sound  of  a  city. 

The  hills  about  the  village  appear  very  high  and 
steep  sometimes,  when  the  shadows  of  the  clouds  are 
thrown  blackly  upon  them,  while  there  is  sunshine 
elsewhere ;  so  that,  seen  in  front,  the  effect  of  their 
gradual  slope  is  lost.  These  hills,  surrounding  the 
town  on  all  sides,  give  it  a  snug  and  insulated  air; 
and,  viewed  from  certain  points,  it  would  be  difficult 
to  tell  how  to  get  out,  without  climbing  the  mountain 
ridges ;  but  the  roads  wind  away  and  accomplish  the 
passage  without  ascending  very  high.  Sometimes  the 
notes  of  a  horn  or  bugle  may  be  heard  sounding  afar 
among  these  passes  of  the  mountains,  announcing  the 
coming  of  the  stage-coach  from  Beimingtoii  or  Troy 
or  Greenfield  or  Pittsfield. 

There  are  multitudes  of  sheep  among  the  hills,  and 
they  appear  very  tame  and  gentle ;  though  sometimes, 
like  the  wicked,  they  "•  flee  when  no  man  pursueth." 
But,  climbing  a  rude,  rough,  locky,  stumpy,  ferny 
height  yesterday,  one  or  two  of  them  stood  and  stared 
at  me  with  great  earnestness.  I  passed  on  quietly., 
but  soon  heard  an  immense  baa-ing  up  the  hill,  and 
all  the  sheep  came  galloping  and  scrambling  after  me, 
baa-ing  with  all  their  might  in  innumerable  voices, 
running  in  a  compact  body,  expressing  the  utmost  ea 
gerness,  as  if  they  sought  the  greatest  imaginable  fa 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  161 

vor  from  me ;  and  so  they  accompanied  me  down  the 
hill-side,  —  a  most  ridiculous  cortege.  Doubtless  they 
had  taken  it  into  their  heads  that  I  brought  them  salt. 

The  aspect  of  the  village  is  peculiarly  beautiful  to 
wards  sunset,  when  there  are  masses  of  cloud  about 
the  sky,  —  the  remnants  of  a  thunder-storm.  These 
clouds  throw  a  shade  upon  large  portions  of  the  ram 
part  of  hills,  and  the  hills  towards  the  west  are  shaded 
of  course ;  the  clouds  also  make  the  shades  deeper  in 
the  village,  and  thus  the  sunshine  on  the  houses  and 
trees,  and  along  the  street,  is  a  bright,  rich  gold. 
The  green  is  deeper  in  consequence  of  the  recent  rain. 

The  doctors  walk  about  the  village  with  their  sad 
dle-bags  011  their  arms,  one  always  with  a  pipe  in  his 
mouth. 

A  little  dog,  named  Snapper,  the  same  who  stands 
on  his  hind  legs,  appears  to  be  a  roguish  little  dog, 
and  the  other  day  he  stole  one  of  the  servant-girl's 
shoes,  and  ran  into  the  street  with  it.  Being  pursued, 
he  would  lift  the  shoe  in  his  mouth  (while  it  almost 
dragged  on  the  ground),  and  run  a  little  way,  then  lie 
down  with  his  paws  on  it  and  wait  to  be  pursued 
again. 

August  1~UA.  —  This  morning,  it  being  cloudy  and 
boding  of  rain,  the  clouds  had  settled  upon  the  moun 
tains,  both  on  the  summits  and  ridges,  all  round  the 
town,  so  that  there  seemed  to  be  no  way  of  gaining 
access  to  the  rest  of  the  world,  unless  by  climbing 
above  the  clouds.  By  and  by  they  partially  dispersed, 
giving  glimpses  of  the  mountain  ramparts  through 
their  obscurity,  the  separate  clouds  lying  heavily  upon 
the  mountain's  breast.  In  warm  mornings,  after  rain, 
the  mist  breaks  forth  from  the  forests  011  the  ascent  oi 


152  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838. 

the  mountains,  like  smoke,  —  the  smoke  of  a  volcano ; 
then  it  soars  up,  and  becomes  a  cloud  in  heaven.  But 
these  clouds  to-day  were  real  rain-clouds.  Sometimes, 
it  is  said,  while  laboring  up  the  mountain-side,  they 
suddenly  burst,  and  pour  down  their  moisture  in  a  cat 
aract,  sweeping  all  before  it. 

Every  new  aspect  of  the  mountains,  or  view  from  a 
different  position,  creates  a  surprise  in  the  mind. 

Scenes  and  characters :  —  A  young  country  fellow, 
twenty  or  thereabouts,  decently  dressed,  pained  with 
the  toothache.  A  doctor,  passing  on  horseback,  with 
his  black  leather  saddle-bags  behind  him,  a  thin,  frosty- 
haired  man.  Being  asked  to  operate,  he  looks  at  the 
tooth,  lances  the  gum,  and  the  fellow  being  content  to 
be  dealt  with  on  the  spot,  he  seats  himself  in  a  chair 
on  the  stoop  with  great  heroism.  The  doctor  pro 
duces  a  rusty  pair  of  iron  forceps ;  a  man  holds  the 
patient's  head;  the  doctor  perceives  that,  it  being  a 
difficult  tooth  to  get  at,  wedged  between  the  two  larg 
est  in  his  jaws,  he  must  pull  very  hard ;  and  the  in 
strument  is  introduced.  A  turn  of  the  doctor's  hand ; 
the  patient  begins  to  utter  a  cry,  but  the  tooth  comes 
out  first,  with  four  prongs.  The  patient  gets  up,  half 
amazed,  pays  the  doctor  ninepence,  pockets  the  tooth, 
and  the  spectators  are  in  glee  and  admiration. 

There  was  a  fat  woman,  a  stage-passenger  to-day,  — 
a  wonder  how  she  could  possibly  get  through  the  door, 
which  seemed  not  so  wide  as  she.  When  she  put  her 
foot  on  the  step,  the  stage  gave  a  great  lurch,  she  jok 
ing  all  the  while.  A  great,  coarse,  red -faced  dama 
Other  passengers,  —  three  or  four  slender  Williams* 
town  students,  a  young  girl,  and  a  man  with  one  leg 
and  two  crutches. 

One  of  the  most  sensible  men  in  this  village  is  a 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOORS.  153 

plain,  tall,  elderly  person,  who  is  overseeing  the  mend 
ing  of  a  road,  —  humorous,  intelligent,  with  much 
thought  about  matters  and  things ;  and  while  at  work 
he  has  a  sort  of  dignity  in  handling  the  hoe  or  crow 
bar,  which  shows  him  to  be  the  chief.  In  the  evening 
he  sits  under  the  stoop,  silent  and  observant  from  un 
der  the  brim  of  his  hat ;  but,  occasion  calling,  he  holds 
an  argument  about  the  benefit  or  otherwise  of  manu 
factories  or  other  things.  A  simplicity  characterizes 
him  more  than  appertains  to  most  Yankees. 

A  man  in  a  pea-green  frock-coat,  with  velvet  collar. 
Another  in  a  flowered  chintz  frock-coat.  There  is  a 
great  diversity  of  hues  in  garments.  A  doctor,  a 
stout,  tall,  round-paunched,  red-faced,  brutal-looking 
old  fellow,  who  gets  drunk  daily.  He  sat  down  on  the 
step  of  our  stoop,  looking  surly,  and  speaking  to  no 
body;  then  got  up  and  walked  homeward,  with  a 
morose  swagger  and  a  slight  unevenness  of  gait,  at 
tended  by  a  fine  Newfoundland  dog. 

A  barouche  with  driver  returned  from  beyond 
Greenfield  or  Troy  empty,  the  passengers  being  left 
at  the  former  place.  The  driver  stops  here  for  the 
night,  and,  while  washing,  enters  into  talk  with  an  old 
man  about  the  different  roads  over  the  mountain. 

People  washing  themselves  at  a  common  basin  in 
the  bar-room !  and  using  the  common  hair-brushes  I 
perhaps  with  a  consciousness  of  praiseworthy  neat 
ness! 

A  man  with  a  cradle  on  his  shoulder,  having  been 
cradling  oats.  I  attended  a  child's  funeral  yesterday 
afternoon.  There  was  an  assemblage  of  people  in 
%  plain,  homely  apartment.  Most  of  the  men  were 
dressed  in  their  ordinary  clothes,  and  one  or  two  were 
in  shirt-sleeves.  The  coffin  was  placed  in  the  midst 


154  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838. 

of  us,  oovered  with  a  velvet  pall.  A  bepaid  clergy 
man  prayed  (the  audience  remaining  seated,  while  he 
stood  up  at  the  head  of  the  coffin),  read  a  passage  of 
Scripture  and  commented  upon  it.  While  he  read 
and  prayed  and  expounded  there  was  a  heavy  thunder 
storm  rumbling  among  the  surrounding  hills,  and  the 
lightning  flashed  fiercely  through  the  gloomy  room: 
and  the  preacher  alluded  to  GOD'S  voice  of  thunder. 

It  is  the  custom  in  this  part  of  the  country  —  and 
perhaps  extensively  in  the  interior  of  New  England  — 
to  bury  the  dead  first  in  a  charnel-house,  or  common 
tomb,  where  they  remain  till  decay  has  so  far  pro 
gressed  as  to  secure  them  from  the  resurrectionists. 
They  are  then  reburied,  with  certain  ceremonies,  in 
their  own  peculiar  graves. 

O.  E.  S ,  a  widower  of  forty  or  upwards,  with 

a  SOD  of  twelve  and  a  pair  of  infant  twins.  He  is  a 
sharp,  shrewd  Yankee,  with  a  Yankee's  license  of  hon 
esty.  He  drinks  sometimes  more  than  enough,  and  is 
guilty  of  peccadilloes  with  the  fair  sex ;  yet  speaks 
most  affectionately  of  his  wife,  and  is  a  fond  and  care 
ful  father.  He  is  a  tall,  thin,  hard-featured  man,  with 
a  sly  expression  of  almost  hidden  grave  humor,  as  if 
there  were  some  deviltry  pretty  constantly  in  his  mind, 
—  which  is  probably  the  case.  His  brother  tells  me 
that  he  was  driven  almost  crazy  by  the  loss  of  his  wife. 
It  appears  to  me  that  men  are  more  affected  by  the 
deaths  of  their  wives  than  wives  by  the  deaths  of  their 

husbands.  Orriii  S smokes  a  pipe,  as  do  many 

of  the  guests. 

A  walk  this  forenoon  up  the  mountain  ridge  that 
walls  in  the  town  towards  the  east.  The  road  is  cut 
Bigzag,  the  mountain  being  generally  as  steep  as  the 
soof  of  a  house;  yet  the  stage  to  Greenfield  passe? 


I838.J  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  155 

over  this  road  two  or  three  times  a  week.  Graylock 
rose  up  behind  me,  appearing,  with  its  two  summits 
and  a  long  ridge  between,  like  a  huge  monster  crouch 
ing  down  slumbering,  with  its  head  slightly  elevated. 
Graylock  is  properly  the  name  for  the  highest  eleva 
tion.  It  appeared  to  better  advantage  the  higher  the 
point  from  which  I  viewed  it.  There  were  houses 
scattered  here  and  there  up  the  mountain-side,  grow 
ing  poorer  as  I  ascended ;  the  last  that  I  passed  was 
a  mean  log-hut,  rough,  rude,  and  dilapidated,  with  the 
smoke  issuing  from  a  chimney  of  small  stones,  plas 
tered  with  clay;  around  it  a  garden  of  beans,  with 
some  attempt  at  flowers,  and  a  green  creeper  running 
over  the  side  of  the  cottage.  Above  this  point  there 
were  various  excellent  views  of  mountain  scenery,  far 
off  and  near,  and  one  village  lying  below  in  the  hot 
low  vale. 

Having  climbed  so  far  that  the  road  seemed  now 
to  go  downward,  I  retraced  my  steps.  There  was  a 
wagon  descending  behind  me ;  and  as  it  followed  the 
zigzag  of  the  road  I  could  hear  the  voices  of  the  men 
high  over  my  head,  and  sometimes  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  wagon  almost  perpendicularly  above  me,  while 
I  was  looking  almost  perpendicularly  down  to  the  log- 
hut  aforementioned.  Trees  were  thick  on  either  hand, 
• —  oaks,  pines,  and  others :  and  marble  occasionally 
peeped  up  in  the  road ;  and  there  was  a  lime-kiln  by 
the  wayside,  ready  for  burning. 

Graylock  had  a  cloud  on  his  head  this  morning,  the 
base  of  a  heavy  white  cloud.  The  distribution  of  the 
sunshine  amid  mountain  scenery  is  very  striking ;  one 
does  not  see  exactly  why  one  spot  should  be  in  deep 
obscurity  while  others  are  all  bright.  The  clouds 
throw  their  shadows  upon  the  hill-sides  as  they  move 
slowly  along,  —  a  transitory  blackness. 


156  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838. 

I  passed  a  doctor  high  up  the  road  in  a  sulky,  with 
his  black  leather  saddle-bags. 

Hudson's  Cave  is  formed  by  Hudson's  Brook.  There 
is  a  natural  arch  of  marble  still  in  one  part  of  it.  The 
cliffs  are  partly  made  verdant  with  green  moss,  chiefly 
gray  with  oxidation ;  on  some  parts  the  white  of  the 
marble  is  seen ;  in  interstices  grow  brake  and  other 
shrubs,  so  that  there  is  naked  sublimity  seen  through 
a  good  deal  of  clustering  beauty.  Above,  the  birch, 
poplars,  and  pines  grow  on  the  utmost  verge  of  the 
cliffs,  which  jut  far  over,  so  that  they  are  suspended 
in  air ;  and  whenever  the  sunshine  finds  its  way  into 
the  depths  of  the  chasm,  the  branches  wave  across 
it.  There  is  a  lightness,  however,  about  their  foli 
age,  which  greatly  relieves  what  would  otherwise  be 
a  gloomy  scene.  After  the  passage  of  the  stream 
through  the  cliffs  of  marble,  the  cliffs  separate  on 
either  side,  and  leave  it  to  flow  onward ;  intercepting 
its  passage,  however,  by  fragments  of  marble,  some 
of  them  huge  ones,  which  the  cliffs  have  flung  down, 
thundering  into  the  bed  of  the  stream  through  num 
berless  ages.  Doubtless  some  of  these  immense  frag 
ments  had  trees  growing  on  them,  which  have  now 
mouldered  away.  Decaying  trunks  are  heaped  in  va 
rious  parts  of  the  gorge.  The  pieces  of  marble  that 
are  washed  by  the  water  are  of  a  snow-white,  and  par 
tially  covered  with  a  bright  green  water-moss,  making 
a  beautiful  contrast. 

Among  the  cliffs,  strips  of  earth-beach  extend  down 
ward,  and  trees  and  large  shrubs  root  themselves  in 
that  earth,  thus  further  contrasting  the  nakedness  of 
the  stone  with  their  green  foliage.  But  the  immedi 
ate  part  where  the  stream  forces  its  winding  passage 
through  the  rock  is  stern,  dark,  and  mysterious. 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  157 

Along  the  road,  where  it  runs  beneath  a  steep,  there 
are  high  ridges,  covered  with  trees,  —  the  dew  of  mid 
night  damping  the  earth,  far  towards  midnoon.  I  ob 
served  the  shadows  of  water-insects,  as  they  swam  in 
the  pools  of  a  stream.  Looking  down  a  streamlet,  I 
saw  a  trunk  of  a  tree,  which  has  been  overthrown  by 
the  wind,  so  as  to  form  a  bridge,  yet  sticking  up  all 
its  branches,  as  if  it  were  unwilling  to  assist  anybody 
over. 

Green  leaves,  following  the  eddies  of  the  rivulet, 
were  now  borne  deep  under  water,  and  now  emerged. 
Great  uprooted  trees,  adhering  midway  down  a  preci 
pice  of  earth,  hung  with  their  tops  downward. 

There  is  an  old  man,  selling  the  meats  of  butternuts 
under  the  stoop  of  the  hotel.  He  makes  that  his  sta 
tion  during  a  part  of  the  season.  He  was  dressed  in 
a  dark  thin  coat,  ribbed  velvet  pantaloons,  and  a  sort 
of  moccasons,  or  shoes,  appended  to  the  legs  of  woollen 
stockings.  He  had  on  a  straw  hat,  and  his  hair  was 
gray,  with  a  long,  thin  visage.  His  nuts  were  con 
tained  in  a  square  tin  box,  having  two  compartments, 
one  for  the  nuts,  and  another  for  maple  sugar,  which 
he  sells  in  small  cakes.  He  had  three  small  tin  meas 
ures  for  nuts,  —  one  at  one  cent,  others  at  two,  four, 
and  six  cents ;  and  as  fast  as  they  were  emptied,  he 
filled  them  again,  and  put  them  on  the  top  of  his  box. 
He  smoked  a  pipe,  and  talked  with  one  man  about 
whether  it  would  be  worth  while  to  grow  young  again, 
and  the  duty  of  being  contented  with  old  age  ;  about 
predestination  and  freewill  and  other  metaphysics.  I 
asked  him  what  his  sales  amounted  to  in  the  course  of 
a  day.  He  said  that  butternuts  did  not  sell  so  well  as 
walnuts,  which  are  not  yet  in  season ;  that  he  might 
to-day  have  sold  fifty  cents'  worth  \  of  walnujts,  never 


158  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [183& 

less  than  a  dollar's  worth,  often  more ;  and  when  he 
went  round  with  a  caravan,  he  had  sold  fifteen  dollars' 
worth  per  day,  and  once  as  much  as  twenty  dollars' 
worth.  This  promises  to  be  an  excellent  year  for  wal 
nuts.  Chestnuts  have  been  scarce  for  two  or  three 
years.  He  had  one  hundred  chestnut-trees  on  his  own 
land,  and  last  year  he  offered  a  man  twenty-five  cents 
if  he  would  find  him  a  quart  of  good  chestnuts  on 
them.  A  bushel  of  walnuts  would  cost  about  ten  dol 
lars.  He  wears  a  pair  of  silver-rimmed  spectacles. 

A  drunken  fellow  sat  down  by  him,  and  bought  a 
cent's  worth  of  his  butternuts,  and  inquired  what  he 
would  sell  out  to  him  for.  The  old  man  made  an  es 
timate,  though  evidently  in  jest,  and  then  reckoned 
his  box,  measures,  meats,  and  what  little  maple  sugar 
he  had,  at  four  dollars.  He  had  a  very  quiet  manner, 
and  expressed  an  intention  of  going  to  the  Commence 
ment  at  Williamstown  to-morrow.  His  name,  I  be 
lieve,  is  Captain  Gavett. 

Wednesday,  August  ~L5th.  —  I  went  to  Commence 
ment  at  Williams  College,  —  five  miles  distant.  At  the 
tavern  were  students  with  ribbons,  pink  or  blue,  flut 
tering  from  their  buttonholes,  these  being  the  badges 
of  rival  societies.  There  was  a  considerable  gathering 
of  people,  chiefly  arriving  in  wagons  or  buggies,  some 
in  barouches,  and  very  few  in  chaises.  The  most  char 
acteristic  part  of  the  scene  was  where  the  pedlars,  gin 
gerbread  -  sellers,  etc.,  were  collected,  a  few  hundred 
yards  from  the  meeting  -  house.  There  was  a  pedlar 
there  from  New  York  State,  who  sold  his  wares  by 
auction,  and  I  could  have  stood  and  listened  to  him  all 
day  long.  Sometimes  he  would  put  up  a  heterogeny ' 

1  This  is  a  word  made  by  Mr.  Hawthorne,  but  one  that  was 
needed.  —  S.  H. 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  159 

of  articles  in  a  lot,  —  as  a  paper  of  pins,  a  lead-pencil, 
and  a  shaving-box,  —  and  knock  them  all  down,  per 
haps  for  ninepence.  Bunches  of  lead  -  pencils,  steel' 
pens,  pound-cakes  of  shaving -soap,  gilt  finger-rings, 
bracelets,  clasps,  and  other  jewelry,  cards  of  pearl  but 
tons,  or  steel  ("  there  is  some  steel  about  them,  gentle 
men,  for  my  brother  stole  'em,  and  I  bore  him  out  in 
it "),  bundles  of  wooden  combs,  boxes  of  matches,  sus 
penders,  and,  in  short,  everything,  —  dipping  his  hand 
down  into  his  wares,  with  the  promise  of  a  wonderful 
tot,  and  producing,  perhaps,  a  bottle  of  opodeldoc,  and 
joining  it  with  a  lead-pencil,  —  and  when  he  had  sold 
several  things  of  the  same  kind,  pretending  huge  sur 
prise  at  finding  "  just  one  more,"  if  the  lads  lingered ; 
saying,  "  I  could  not  afford  to  steal  them  for  the  price ; 
for  the  remorse  of  conscience  would  be  worth  more," 
—  all  the  time  keeping  an  eye  upon  those  who  bought, 
calling  for  the  pay,  making  change  with  silver  or  bills, 
and  deciding  on  the  goodness  of  banks;  and  saying 
to  the  boys,  who  climbed  upon  his  cart,  "  Fall  down, 
roll  down,  tumble  down,  only  get  down  " ;  and  utter 
ing  everything  in  the  queer,  humorous  recitative  in 
which  he  sold  his  articles.  Sometimes  he  would  pre 
tend  that  a  person  had  bid,  either  by  word  or  wink 
and  raised  a  laugh  thus ;  never  losing  his  self-posses 
sion,  nor  getting  out  of  humor.  When  a  man  asked 
whether  a  bill  were  good  :  "  No  !  do  you  suppose  I'  d 
give  you  good  money  ?  "  When  he  delivered  an  arti 
cle,  he  exclaimed,  "  You'  re  the  lucky  man,"  setting  off 
his  wares  with  the  most  extravagant  eulogies.  The 
people  bought  very  freely,  and  seemed  also  to  enjoy 
the  fun.  One  little  boy  bought  a  shaving  -  box,  per 
haps  meaning  to  speculate  upon  it.  This  character 
could  not  possibly  be  overdrawn ;  and  he  was  really 


169  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [183a 

excellent,  with  his  allusions  to  what  was  passing,  in 
termingled,  doubtless,  with  a  good  deal  that  was  stud 
ied.  He  was  a  man  between  thirty  and  forty,  with  a 
face  expressive  of  other  ability,  as  well  as  of  humor. 

A  good  many  people  were  the  better  or  the  worse 
for  liquor.  There  was  one  fellow,  —  named  Randall, 
I  think,  —  a  round-shouldered,  bulky,  ill-hung  devil, 
with  a  pale,  sallow  skin,  black  beard,  and  a  sort  of 
grin  upon  his  face,  —  a  species  of  laugh,  yet  not  so 
much  mirthful  as  indicating  a  strange  mental  and 
moral  twist.  He  was  very  riotous  in  the  crowd,  el 
bowing,  thrusting,  seizing  hold  of  people  ;  and  at  last 
a  ring  was  formed,  and  a  regular  wrestling  -  match 
commenced  between  him  and  a  farmer-looking  man. 
Randall  brandished  his  legs  about  in  the  most  ridicu 
lous  style,  but  proved  himself  a  good  wrestler,  and 
finally  threw  his  antagonist.  He  got  up  with  the 
same  grin  upon  his  features,  —  not  a  grin  of  simplic 
ity,  but  intimating  knowingness.  When  more  depth 
or  force  of  expression  was  required,  he  could  put  on 
the  most  strangely  ludicrous  and  ugly  aspect  (suiting 
his  gesture  and  attitude  to  it)  that  can  be  imagined. 
I  should  like  to  see  this  fellow  when  he  was  perfectly 
sober. 

There  were  a  good  many  blacks  among  the  crowd. 
I  suppose  they  used  to  emigrate  across  the  border, 
while  New  York  was  a  slave  State.  There  were 
enough  of  them  to  form  a  party,  though  greatly  in  the 
minority  ;  and,  a  squabble  arising,  tome  of  the  blacks 
were  knocked  down,  and  otherwise  maltreated.  I  saw 
one  old  negro,  a  genuine  specimen  of  the  slave  negro, 
without  any  of  the  foppery  of  the  race  in  our  part  of 
the  State,  —  an  old  fellow,  with  a  bag,  I  suppose,  of 
broken  victuals,  on  his  shoulder,  and  his  pockets 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  161 

stuffed  out  at  his  hips  with  the  like  provender ;  full 
of  grimaces  and  ridiculous  antics,  laughing  laughably, 
yet  without  affectation;  then  talking  with  a  strange 
kind  of  pathos  about  the  whippings  he  used  to  get 
while  he  was  a  slave ;  —  a  singular  creature,  of  mere 
feeling,  with  some  glimmering  of  sense.  Then  there 
was  another  gray  old  negro,  but  of  a  different  stamp, 
politic,  sage,  cautious,  yet  with  boldness  enough,  talk 
ing  about  the  rights  of  his  race,  yet  so  as  not  to  pro 
voke  his  audience;  discoursing  of  the  advantage  of 
living  under  laws,  and  the  wonders  that  might  ensue, 
in  that  very  assemblage,  if  there  were  no  laws ;  in  the 
midst  of  this  deep  wisdom,  turning  off  the  anger  of  a 
half-drunken  fellow  by  a  merry  retort,  a  leap  in  the 
air,  and  a  negro's  laugh.  I  was  interested  —  there 
being  a  drunken  negro  ascending  the  meeting-house 
steps,  and  near  him  three  or  four  well-dressed  and 
decent  negro  wenches  —  to  see  the  look  of  scorn  and 
shame  and  sorrow  and  painful  sympathy  which  one  of 
them  assumed  at  this  disgrace  of  her  color. 

The  people  here  show  out  their  character  much 
more  strongly  than  they  do  with  us ;  there  was  not 
the  quiet,  silent,  dull  decency  of  our  public  assem 
blages,  but  mirth,  anger,  eccentricity,  —  all  manifest 
ing  themselves  freely.  There  were  many  watermelons 
for  sale,  and  people  burying  their  muzzles  deep  in  the 
juicy  flesh  of  them.  There  were  cider  and  beer. 
Many  of  the  people  had  their  mouths  half  opened  in 
a  grin,  which,  more  than  anything  else,  I  think,  in 
dicates  a  low  stage  of  refinement.  A  low-crowned  hat 
—  very  low  —  is  common.  They  are  respectful  to 
gentlemen. 

A  bat  being  startled,  probably,  out  of  the  meeting 
house,  by  the  commotion  around,  flew  blindly  about  in 

VOL.  IX.  11 


162  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [183& 

the  sunshine,  and  alighted  on  a  man's  sleeve.  I  looked 
at  him,  —  a  droll,  winged,  beast  -  insect,  creeping  up 
the  man's  arm,  not  over-clean,  and  scattering  dust  on 
the  man's  coat  from  his  vampire  wings.  The  man 
stared  at  him,  and  let  the  spectators  stare  for  a  min 
ute,  and  then  shook  him  gently  off ;  and  the  poor 
devil  took  a  flight  across  the  green  to  the  meeting 
house,  and  then,  I  believe,  alighted  on  somebody  else. 
Probably  he  was  put  to  death.  Bats  are  very  numer 
ous  in  these  parts. 

There  was  a  drunken  man,  annoying  people  with 
his  senseless  talk  and  impertinences,  impelled  to  per 
form  eccentricities  by  an  evil  spirit  in  him ;  and  a 
pale  little  boy,  with  a  bandaged  leg,  whom  his  father 
brought  out  of  the  tavern  and  put  into  a  barouche. 
Then  the  boy  needfully  placed  shawls  and  cushions 
about  his  leg  to  support  it,  his  face  expressive  of  pain 
and  care,  —  not  transitory,  but  settled  pain,  of  long 
and  forcedly  patient  endurance  ;  and  this  painful  look, 
perhaps,  gave  his  face  more  intelligence  than  it  might 
otherwise  have  had,  though  it  was  naturally  a  sensi 
tive  face.  Well-dressed  ladies  were  in  the  meeting 
house  in  silks  and  cambrics,  —  the  sunburnt  necks  in 
contiguity  with  the  delicate  fabrics  of  the  dresses  show, 
ing  the  yeoman's  daughters. 

Country  graduates,  —  rough,  brown-featured,  school 
master-looking,  half -bumpkin,  half-scholarly  figures,  in 
black  ill-cut  broadcloth,  —  their  manners  quite  spoilt 
by  what  little  of  the  gentleman  there  was  in  them. 

The  landlord  of  the  tavern  keeping  his  eye  on  a 
man  whom  he  suspected  of  an  intention  to  bolt.1 

The  next  day  after  Commencement  was  bleak  and 

1  A  word  meaning  in  Worcester,  I  find,  "  to  spring  out  with  speed 
Mid  suddenness."  —  S.  H. 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  163 

rainy  from  midnight  till  midnight,  and  a  good  many 
guests  were  added  to  our  table  in  consequence.  Among 
them  were  some  of  the  Williamstown  students,  gentle 
manly  young  fellows,  with  a  brotherly  feeling  for  each 
other,  a  freedom  about  money  concerns,  a  half-boyish, 
half -manly  character;  and  my  heart  warmed  to  them. 
They  took  their  departure  —  two  for  South  Adams 
and  two  across  the  Green  Mountains  —  in  the  midst 
of  the  rain.  There  was  one  of  the  graduates  with  his 
betrothed,  and  his  brother-in-law  and  wife,  who  stayed 
during  the  day,  —  the  graduate  the  very  model  of  a 
country  schoolmaster  in  his  Sunday  clothes,  being  his 
Commencement  suit  of  black  broadcloth  and  pumps. 
He  is  engaged  as  assistant  teacher  of  the  academy  at 
Shelburne  Falls.  There  was  also  the  high  sheriff  of 
Berkshire,  Mr.  Twining,  with  a  bundle  of  writs  under 
his  arm,  and  some  of  them  peeping  out  of  his  pockets. 
Also  several  Trojan  men  and  women,  who  had  been  to 
Commencement.  Likewise  a  young  clergyman,  grad 
uate  of  Brown  College,  and  student  of  the  Divinity 
School  at  Cambridge.  He  had  come  across  the 
Hoosic,  or  Green  Mountains,  about  eighteen  miles,  on 
foot,  from  Charlemont,  where  he  is  preaching,  and 
had  been  to  Commencement.  Knowing  little  of  men 
and  matters,  and  desiring  to  know  more,  he  was  very 
free  in  making  acquaintance  with  people,  but  could 
not  do  it  handsomely.  A  singular  smile  broke  out 
upon  his  face  on  slight  provocation.  He  was  awk 
ward  in  his  manners,  yet  it  was  not  an  ungentlemanly 
awkwardness,  —  intelligent  as  respects  book-learning, 
but  much  deficient  in  worldly  tact.  It  was  pleasant 
to  observe  his  consciousness  of  this  deficiency,  and 
how  he  strove  to  remedy  it  by  mixing  as  much  as 
possible  with  people,  and  sitting  almost  all  day  in  the 


164  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [183&, 

bar-room  to  study  character.  Sometimes  he  would 
endeavor  to  contribute  his  share  to  the  general  amuse- 
ment,  —  as  by  growling  comically,  to  provoke  and 
mystify  a  dog  ;  and  by  some  bashful  and  half-apropos 
observations. 

In  the  afternoon  there  came  a  fresh  bevy  of  stu 
dents  onward  from  Williamstown ;  but  they  made  onlj 
a  transient  visit,  though  it  was  still  raining.  These 
were  a  rough  -  hewn,  heavy  set  of  fellows,  from  the 
hills  and  woods  in  this  neighborhood,  —  great  unpol 
ished  bumpkins,  who  had  grown  up  farmer-boys,  and 
had  little  of  the  literary  man,  save  green  spectacles 
and  black  broadcloth  (which  all  of  them  had  not), 
talking  with  a  broad  accent,  and  laughing  clown-like, 
while  sheepishness  overspread  all,  together  with  a  van 
ity  at  being  students.  One  of  the  party  was  six  feet 
seven  inches  high,  and  all  his  herculean  dimensions 
were  in  proportion ;  his  features,  too,  were  cast  in  a 
mould  suitable  to  his  stature.  This  giant  was  not 
ill -looking,  but  of  a  rather  intelligent  aspect.  His 
motions  were  devoid  of  grace,  but  yet  had  a  rough 
freedom,  appropriate  enough  to  such  a  figure.  These 
fellows  stayed  awhile,  talked  uncouthly  about  college 
matters,  and  started  in  the  great  open  wagon  which 
had  brought  them  and  their  luggage  hither.  We  had 
a  fire  in  the  bar-room  almost  all  day,  —  a  great,  blaz 
ing  fire,  —  and  it  was  pleasant  to  have  this  day  of 
bleak  November  weather,  and  cheerful  fireside  talk, 
and  wet  garments  smoking  in  the  fireside  heat,  still  in 
the  summer-time.  Thus  the  day  wore  on  with  a  sort  of 
heavy,  lazy  pleasantness ;  and  night  set  in,  still  stormy. 

In  the  morning  it  was  cloudy,  but  did  not  rain,  and 
I  went  with  the  little  clergyman  to  Hudson's  Cave. 
The  stream  which  they  call  North  Branch,  and  intfl 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  165 

which  Hudson's  Brook  empties,  was  much  swollen,  and 
tumbled  and  dashed  and  whitened  over  the  rocks,  and 
formed  real  cascades  over  the  dams,  and  rushed  fast 
along  the  side  of  the  cliffs,  which  had  their  feet  in  it. 
Its  color  was  deep  brown,  owing  to  the  washing  of  the 
banks  which  the  rain  had  poured  into  it.  Looking 
back,  we  could  see  a  cloud  on  Graylock ;  but  on  other 
parts  of  Saddle  Mountain  there  were  spots  of  sunshine, 
some  of  most  glorious  brightness,  contrasting  with  the 
general  gloom  of  the  sky,  and  the  deep  shadow  which 
lay  on  the  earth. 

We  looked  at  the  spot  where  the  stream  makes  its 
entrance  into  the  marble  cliff,  and  it  was  (this  morn 
ing,  at  least)  the  most  striking  view  of  the  cave.  The 
water  dashed  down  in  a  misty  cascade,  through  what 
looked  like  the  portal  of  some  infernal  subterranean 
structure  ;  and  far  within  the  portal  we  could  see  the 
mist  and  the  falling  water ;  and  it  looked  as  if,  but 
for  these  obstructions  of  view,  we  might  have  had  a 
deeper  insight  into  a  gloomy  region. 

After  our  return,  the  little  minister  set  off  for  hia 
eighteen  miles'  journey  across  the  mountains ;  and  I 
was  occupied  the  rest  of  the  forenoon  with  an  affair  of 
stealing,  —  a  woman  of  forty  or  upwards  being  accused 
of  stealing  a  needle-case  and  other  trifles  from  a  fac 
tory-girl  at  a  boarding-house.  She  came  here  to  take 
passage  in  a  stage  ;  but  Putnam,  a  justice  of  the 
peace,  examined  her  and  afterwards  ordered  her  to  be 
searched  by  Laura  and  Eliza,  the  chambermaid  and 
table-waiter.  Hereupon  was  much  fun  and  some  sym 
pathy.  They  searched,  and  found  nothing  that  they 
sought,  though  she  gave  up  a  pair  of  pantalets,  which 
she  pretended  to  have  taken  by  mistake.  Afterwards, 
she  being  in  the  parlor,  I  went  in ;  and  she  irnmedr 


166  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [183S 

ately  began  to  talk  to  me,  giving  me  an  account  of  the 
affair,  speaking  with  the  bitterness  of  a  wronged  per 
son,  with  a  sparkling  eye,  yet  with  great  fluency  and 
self-possession.  She  is  a  yellow,  thin,  and  battered  old 
thing,  yet  rather  country-lady-like  in  aspect  and  man 
ners.  I  heard  Eliza  telling  another  girl  about  it,  un 
der  my  window ;  and  she  seemed  to  think  that  the 
poor  woman's  reluctance  to  be  searched  arose  from 
the  poorness  of  her  wardrobe  and  of  the  contents  of 
her  bandbox. 

At  parting,  Eliza  said  to  the  girl,  "What  do  you 
think  I  heard  somebody  say  about  you  ?  That  it  was 
enough  to  make  anybody's  eyes  start  square  out  of 
their  head  to  look  at  such  red  cheeks  as  yours." 
Whereupon  the  girl  turned  off  the  compliment  with 
a  laugh,  and  took  her  leave. 

There  is  an  old  blind  dog,  recognizing  his  friends 
by  the  sense  of  smell.  I  observed  the  eager  awkward 
ness  with  which  he  accomplishes  the  recognition,  his 
carefulness  in  descending  steps,  and  generally  in  his 
locomotion.  He  evidently  has  not  forgotten  that  he 
once  had  the  faculty  of  sight ;  for  he  turns  his  eyes 
with  earnestness  towards  those  who  attract  his  atten 
tion,  though  the  orbs  are  plainly  sightless. 

Here  is  an  Englishman,  —  a  thorough-going  Tory  and 
Monarchist,  —  upholding  everything  English,  govern 
ment,  people,  habits,  education,  manufactures,  modes 
of  living,  and  expressing  his  dislike  of  all  American 
isms,  —  and  this  in  a  quiet,  calm,  reasonable  way,  as 
if  it  were  quite  proper  to  live  in  a  country  and  draw 
his  subsistence  from  it,  and  openly  abuse  it.  He  im 
ports  his  clothes  from  England,  and  expatiates  on  the 
superiority  of  English  boots,  hats,  cravats,  etc.  He 
is  a  man  of  unmalleable  habits,  and  wears  his  dress  of 
the  same  fashion  as  that  of  twenty  years  ago. 


1838.]  AMERICAN   NOTE-BOOKS.  167 

August  ~LSth.  —  There  has  come  one  of  the  propri 
etors,  or  superintendents  of  a  caravan  of  animals,  —  a 
large,  portly  -  paimehed,  dark  -  complexioned,  brandy- 
burnt,  heavy-faced  man  of  about  fifty  ;  with  a  diminu 
tive  nose  in  proportion  to  the  size  of  his  face,  —  thick 
lips  ;  nevertheless  he  has  the  air  of  a  man  who  has 
seen  much,  and  derived  such  experience  as  was  for  his 
purpose.     Also  it  is  the  air  of  a  man  not  in  a  subor 
dinate  station,  though  vulgar  and  coarse.     He  arrived 
in  a  wagon,  with  a  span  of  handsome  gray  horses,  and 
ordered  dinner.     He  had  left  his  caravan  at  Worces 
ter,   and  came  from  thence  and  over  the  mountain 
hither,  to  settle  stopping-places  for  the  caravan.     The 
nearest  place  to  this,  I  believe,  was  Charlemont ;  the 
penultimate  at  Greenfield.     In  stopping  at  such  a  vil 
lage  as  this,  they  do  not  expect  much  profit,  if  any ; 
but  would  be  content  with  enough  to  pay  their  travel 
ling  expenses,  while  they  look  to  gather  gain  at  larger 
places.     In  this  village,   it  seems,  the  selectmen  had 
resolved  not  to  license  any  public  exhibition  of  the 
kind ;  and  it  was  interesting  to  attend  to  the  consul 
tations  whether  it  were  feasible  to  overcome  the  ob 
jections,  and  what  might  be  the  best  means.     Orrin 
S and  the  chance  passers-by  took  part  in  the  dis 
cussion.     The  scruple  is  that  the  factory-girls,  having 
ready  money  by  them,  spend  it  for  these  nonsenses, 
quitting  their  work ;  whereas,  were  it  a  mere  farming- 
town,  the  caravan  would  take  little  in  proportion  to 
their  spendings.     The  opinion  generally  was  that  the 
license  could  not  be  obtained  ;  and  the  portly  man's 
face  grew  darker  and  downcast  at  the  prospect ;  and 
he  took  out  a  travelling-map  and  looked  it  carefully 
over,  to  discover  some  other  station.     This  is  some 
thing  like  the  planning  of  the  march  of  an  army.     It 


168  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [18Sa 

was  finally  resolved  to  enlist  the  influence  of  a  brother* 
in-law  of  the  head  selectman,  and  try  to  gain  his  con- 
sent.  Whereupon  the  caravan-man  and  the  brother- 
in-law  (who,  being  a  tavern-keeper,  was  to  divide  the 
custom  of  the  caravan  people  with  this  house)  went  to 
make  the  attempt,  —  the  caravan-man  stalking  along 
with  stiff,  awkward  bulk  and  stature,  yet  preserving 
a  respectability  withal  though  with  somewhat  of  the 
blackguard.  Before  he  went,  he  offered  a  wager  of 
"  a  drink  of  rum  or  a  chaw  of  tobacco  "  that  he  did 
not  succeed.  When  he  came  back  there  was  a  flush 
in  his  face  and  a  sparkle  in  his  eye  that  did  not  look 
like  failure ;  but  I  know  not  what  was  the  result. 
He  took  a  glass  of  wine  with  the  brother-in-law,  —  a 
grave,  thin,  frosty-haired,  shrewd-looking  yeoman,  in 
his  shirt-sleeves,  —  then  ordered  his  horses,  paid  his 
bill,  and  drove  off,  accompanied  still  by  the  same  yeo 
man,  perhaps  to  get  the  permission  of  the  other  two 
selectmen.  If  he  does  not  get  a  license  here,  he  will 
try  at  Cheshire. 

A  fellow  appears  with  a  pink  guard-chain  and  two 
breast-pins  in  his  shirt,  —  one  a  masonic  one  of  gold, 
with  compass  and  square,  and  the  other  of  colored 
glass,  set  in  filigree  brass,  —  and  the  shirt  a  soiled 
one. 

A  tendency  to  obesity  is  more  common  in  this  part 
of  the  country  than  I  have  noticed  it  elsewhere. 

August    \$th.  --  I    drove   with    Orrin    S last 

evening  to  an  old  farmer's  house  to  get  some  chick 
ens.  Entering  the  kitchen,  I  observed  a  fireplace  with 
rough  stone  jambs  and  back,  and  a  marble  hearth, 
cracked,  and  otherwise  contrasting  a  roughness  ol 
workmanship  with  the  value  of  the  material.  There 


AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  169 

was  a  clock  without  a  case,  the  weights  being  visible, 
and  the  pendulum  swinging  in  air,  —  and  a  coffee- 
mill  fixed  against  the  wall.  A  religious  newspaper 
lay  on  the  mantel-piece.  The  old  farmer  was  reluc 
tant  to  go  after  the  fowls,  declaring  that  it  would  be 
impossible  to  find  them  in  the  dark ;  but  Orrin  insist 
ing,  he  lighted  a  lamp,  and  we  all  went  together,  and 
quickly  found  them,  roosted  about  the  wood  -  pile ; 
whereupon  Orrin  speedily  laid  hands  on  five,  and 
wrung  their  necks  in  a  twinkling,  they  fluttering  long 
after  they  should  have  been  dead.  When  we  had 
taken  our  departure,  Orrin  remarked,  "  How  faint 
hearted  these  old  fellows  are  !  "  and  it  was  a  good  ob 
servation  ;  for  it  was  the  farmer's  timorous  age  that 
made  him  doubt  the  practicability  of  catching  the 
chickens,  and  it  contrasted  well  with  the  persevering 
energy  of  the  middle-aged  Orrin.  But  Orrin  inquired, 
somewhat  dolefully,  whether  I  should  suppose  that  he 
himself  bewailed  the  advances  of  age.  It  is  a  grievous 
point  with  him. 

In  the  evening  there  was  a  strange  fellow  in  the 
bar-room,  —  a  sort  of  mock  Methodist,  —  a  cattle- 
drover,  who  had  stopped  here  for  the  night  with  two 
cows  and  a  Durham  bull.  All  his  talk  turned  upon 
religion,  and  he  would  ever  and  anon  burst  out  in 
some  strain  of  scriptural  -  styled  eloquence,  chanted 
through  his  nose,  like  an  exhortation  at  a  camp-meet 
ing.  A  group  of  Uiiiversalists  and  no-religionists  sat 
around  him,  making  him  their  butt,  and  holding  wild 
argument  with  him ;  and  he  strangely  mingled  humor, 
with  his  enthusiasm,  and  enthusiasm  with  his  humor 
so  that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  tell  whether  he 
were  in  jest  or  earnest.  Probably  it  was  neither,  but 
sin  eccentricity,  an  almost  monomania,  that  has  grown 


1TO  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [ISIS, 

upon  him,  —  perhaps  the  result  of  strong  religious  ex 
citement.  And,  having  been  a  backslider,  he  is  cursed 
with  a  half -frenzied  humor.  In  the  morning  he  talked 
in  the  same  strain  at  breakfast,  while  quaffing  four 
teen  cups  of  tea,  —  Eliza,  all  the  while,  as  she  sup* 
plied  him,  entreating  him  not  to  drink  any  more. 
After  breakfast  (it  being  the  Sabbath)  he  drove  his 
two  cows  and  bull  past  the  stoop,  raising  his  staff,  and 
running  after  them  with  strange,  uncouth  gestures; 
and  the  last  word  I  heard  from  him  was  an  exhorta 
tion  :  "  Gentlemen,  now  all  of  you  take  your  Bibles, 
and  meditate  on  divine  things,"  —  this  being  uttered 
with  raised  hands,  and  a  Methodistical  tone,  inter 
mingled,  as  was  his  expression,  with  something  humor 
ous  ;  so  that,  to  the  last,  the  puzzle  was  still  kept  up, 
whether  he  was  an  enthusiast  or  a  jester.  He  wore  a 
suit  of  coarse  brown  cloth,  cut  in  rather  a  Quaker  fash* 
ion  ;  and  he  had  a  large  nose,  and  his  face  expressed 
enthusiasm  and  humor,  —  a  sort  of  smile  and  twinkle 
of  the  eye,  with  wildness.  He  is  excellent  at  a  bar 
gain  ;  and  if,  in  the  midst  of  his  ghostly  exhortation, 
the  talk  were  turned  on  cattle,  he  eagerly  seized  the 
topic  and  expatiated  on  it. 

While  this  fellow  was  enumerating  the  Universal 
ists  in  neighboring  towns  who  had  turned  from  theii 
errors  on  their  death-beds,  some  one  exclaimed,  "  John 
Hodges  !  why,  he  is  n't  dead,  —  he  's  alive  and  well." 
Whereat  there  was  a  roar  of  laughter.  While  holding 
an  argument  at  table,  I  heard  him  mutter  to  himseli 
at  something  that  his  adversary  said ;  and  though  I 
could  not  distinguish  what  it  was,  the  tone  did  more 
to  convince  me  of  some  degree  of  earnestness  than 
aught  beside.  This  character  might  be  wrought  into 
a  strange  portrait  of  something  sad,  terrific,  and  laugh 
able. 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  171 

The  Sabbath  wore  away  lazily,  and  therefore  wick- 
edly.  The  heavy  caravan-man  inquired  for  some  book 
of  light  reading,  and,  having  obtained  an  old  volume 
of  a  literary  paper,  betook  himself  to  the  seat  of  his 
wagon,  to  read.  At  other  times  he  smoked,  and  talked 
sensibly  enough  with  anybody  that  offered.  He  is  a 
man  of  sense,  though  not  quick,  and  seems  to  be  a  fair 
man. 

When  he  walks,  he  puts  the  thumb  of  each  hand 
into  the  armhole  of  his  waistcoat,  and  moves  along 
stiffly,  with  a  knock-kneed  gait.  His  talk  was  chiefly 
af  hotels,  and  such  matters  as  a  man,  always  travel 
ling,  without  any  purpose  of  observation  for  mental 
improvement,  would  be  interested  in.  He  spoke  of 
his  life  as  a  hard  one. 

There  was  a  Methodist  quarterly  meeting  here,  and 
a  love-feast. 

There  is  a  fellow  hereabout  who  refuses  to  pay  six 
dollars  for  the  coffin  in  which  his  wife  was  buried. 
She  died  about  six  months  since,  and  I  believe  he  is 
already  engaged  to  another.  He  is  young  and  rather 
comely,  but  has  not  a  straightforward  look. 

One  man  plods  along,  looking  always  on  the  ground, 
without  ever  lifting  his  eyes  to  the  mountain  scenery, 
and  forest,  and  clouds,  above  and  around  him.  An 
other  walks  the  street  with  a  quick,  prying  eye,  and 
sharp  face,  —  the  most  expressive  possible  of  one  on 
the  look-out  for  gain,  —  of  the  most  disagreeable  class 
of  Yankees.  There  is  also  a  sour-looking,  unwhole 
some  boy,  the  son  of  this  man,  whose  voice  is  queru 
lous  and  ill-natured,  precisely  suited  to  his  aspect.  So 
is  his  character. 

We  have  another  with  Indian  blood  in  him,  and  tha 
straight  black  hair,  —  something  of  the  tawny  skin 


172  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [18S8L 

and  th&  quick,  shining  eye  of  the  Indian.  He  seems 
reserved,  but  is  not  ill-natured  when  spoken  to.  There 
is  so  much  of  the  white  in  him,  that  he  gives  the  im 
pression  of  belonging  to  a  civilized  race,  which  causes 
the  more  strange  sensation  on  discovering  that  he  has 
a  wild  lineage. 

August  22c7.  —  I  walked  out  into  what  is  called  the 
Notch  this  forenoon,  between  Saddle  Mountain  and 
another.  There  are  good  farms  in  this  Notch,  although 
the  ground  is  considerably  elevated,  —  this  morning, 
indeed,  above  the  clouds ;  for  I  penetrated  through  one 
in  reaching  the  higher  region,  although  I  found  sun 
shine  there.  Graylock  was  hidden  in  clouds,  and  the 
rest  of  Saddle  Mountain  had  one  partially  wreathed 
about  it ;  but  it  was  withdrawn  before  long.  It  was 
very  beautiful  cloud-scenery.  The  clouds  lay  on  the 
breast  of  the  mountain,  dense,  white,  well-defined,  and 
some  of  them  were  in  such  close  vicinity  that  it  seemed 
as  if  I  could  infold  myself  in  them :  while  others,  be 
longing  to  the  same  fleet,  were  floating  through  the 
blue  sky  above.  I  had  a  view  of  Williamstown  at  the 
distance  of  a  few  miles,  —  two  or  three,  perhaps,  —  a 
white  village  and  steeple  in  a  gradual  hollow,  with  high 
mountainous  swells  heaving  themselves  up,  like  im 
mense,  subsiding  waves,  far  and  wide  around  it.  On 
these  high  mountain-waves  rested  the  white  summer 
clouds,  or  they  rested  as  still  in  the  air  above ;  and 
they  were  formed  into  such  fantastic  shapes  that  they 
gave  the  strongest  possible  impression  of  being  con 
founded  or  intermixed  with  the  sky.  It  was  like  a 
day-dream  to  look  at  it ;  and  the  students  ought  to  be 
day-dreamers,  all  of  them,  —  when  cloud-land  is  one 
«nd  the  same  thing  with  the  substantial  earth.  By 


1838.]  AMERICAN-  NOTE-BOOKS.  173 

degrees  all  these  clouds  flitted  away,  and  the  sultry 
summer  sun  burned  on  hill  and  valley.  As  I  was 
walking  home,  an  old  man  came  down  the  mountain- 
path  behind  me  in  a  wagon,  and  gave  me  a  drive  to 
the  village.  Visitors  being  few  in  the  Notch,  the  wo 
men  and  girls  looked  from  the  windows  after  me ;  the 
men  nodded  and  greeted  me  with  a  look  of  curiosity ; 
and  two  little  girls  whom  I  met,  bearing  tin  pails, 
whispered  one  another  and  smiled. 

North  Adams,  August  23d.  — The  county  commit 
sioners  held  a  court  in  the  bar-room  yesterday  after 
noon,  for  the  purpose  of  letting  out  the  making  of  the 
new  road  over  the  mountain.  The  commissioners  sat 
together  in  attitudes  of  some  dignity,  with  one  leg  laid 
across  another;  and  the  people,  to  the  number  of 
twenty  or  thirty,  sat  round  about  with  their  hats  on, 
in  their  shirt-sleeves,  with  but  little,  yet  with  some, 
formality.  Several  had  come  from  a  distance  to  bid 
for  the  job.  They  sat  with  whips  in  their  hands.  The 
first  bid  was  three  dollars,  —  then  there  was  a  long 
silence,  —  then  a  bid  of  two  dollars  eighty-five  cents, 
and  finally  it  was  knocked  down  at  two  eighteen,  per 
rod.  A  disposition  to  bid  was  evidenced  in  one  man 
by  his  joking  on  the  bid  of  another. 

After  supper,  as  the  sun  was  setting,  a  man  passed 
by  the  door  with  a  hand-organ,  connected  with  which 
was  a  row  of  figures,  such  as  dancers,  pirouetting  and 
turning,  a  lady  playing  on  a  piano,  soldiers,  a  negro 
wench  dancing,  and  opening  and  shutting  a  huge  red 
mouth,  —  all  these  keeping  time  to  the  lively  or  slow 
tunes  of  the  organ.  The  man  had  a  pleasant,  but  sly, 
dark  face ;  he  carried  his  whole  establishment  on  hia 
shoulder,  it  being  fastened  to  a  staff  which  he  rested 


174  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [183a 

on  the  ground  when  he  performed.  A  little  crowd  of 
people  gathered  about  him  on  the  stoop,  peeping  over 
each  other's  heads  with  huge  admiration,  —  fat  Otis 
Hodge,  and  the  tall  stage-driver,  and  the  little  boys 
all  declaring  that  it  was  the  masterpiece  of  sights. 
Some  few  coppers  did  the  man  obtain,  as  well  as  much 
praise.  He  had  come  over  the  high,  solitary  moun< 
tain,  where  for  miles  there  could  hardly  be  a  soul  to 
hear  his  music. 

In  the  evening,  a  portly  old  commissioner,  a  cheer 
ful  man  enough,  was  sitting  reading  the  newspaper  in 
the  parlor,  holding  the  candle  between  the  newspaper 
and  his  eyes,  —  its  rays  glittering  on  his  silver-bowed 
spectacles  and  silvery  hair.  A  pensive  mood  of  age 
had  come  upon  him,  and  sometimes  he  heaved  a  long 
sigh,  while  he  turned  and  re-turned  the  paper,  and 
folded  it  for  convenient  reading.  By  and  by  a  gentle- 
man  came  to  see  him,  and  he  talked  with  him  cheer* 
fully. 

The  fat  old  squire,  whom  I  have  mentioned  more 
than  once,  is  an  odd  figure,  with  his  bluff,  red  face,  — 
coarsely  red,  —  set  in  silver  hair,  —  his  clumsy  legs, 
which  he  moves  in  a  strange  straddle,  using,  I  believe, 
a  broomstick  for  a  staff.  The  breadth  of  back  of  these 
fat  men  is  truly  a  wonder. 

A  decent  man,  at  table  the  other  day,  took  the  only 
remaining  potato  out  of  the  dish,  on  the  end  of  his 
knife,  and  offered  his  friend  half  of  it ! 

The  mountains  look  much  larger  and  more  majestic 
sometimes  than  at  others,  —  partly  because  the  mind 
may  be  variously  disposed,  so  as  to  comprehend  them 
more  or  less,  and  partly  that  an  imperceptible  (or  al 
most  so)  haze  adds  a  great  deal  to  the  effect.  Saddle* 
back  often  looks  a  huge,  black  mass,  —  black-green,  01 
black-blue. 


1858.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  175 

The  cave  makes  a  fresh  impression  upon  me  every 
time  I  visit  it,  —  so  deep,  so  irregular,  so  gloomy,  so 
stern,  — part  of  its  walls  the  pure  white  of  the  marble, 
—  others  covered  with  a  gray  decomposition  and  with 
spots  of  moss,  and  with  brake  growing  where  there  is 
a  handful  of  earth.  I  stand  and  look  into  its  depth? 
at  various  points,  and  hear  the  roar  of  the  stream  re 
echoing  up.  It  is  like  a  heart  that  has  been  rent  asun 
der  by  a  torrent  of  passion,  which  has  raged  and 
foamed,  and  left  its  ineffaceable  traces ;  though  now 
there  is  but  a  little  rill  of  feeling  at  the  bottom. 

In  parts,  trees  have  fallen  across  the  fissure,  —  trees 
with  large  trunks. 

I  bathed  in  the  stream  in  this  old,  secluded  spot, 
which  I  frequent  for  that  purpose.  To  reach  it,  I 
cross  one  branch  of  the  stream  on  stones,  and  then 
pass  to  the  other  side  of  a  little  island,  overgrown  with 
trees  and  underbrush.  Where  I  bathe,  the  stream  has 
partially  dammed  itself  up  by  sweeping  together  tree- 
trunks  and  slabs  and  branches,  and  a  thousand  things 
that  have  come  down  its  current  for  years  perhaps  ; 
so  that  there  is  a  deep  pool,  full  of  eddies  and  little 
whirlpools,  which  would  carry  me  away,  did  I  not  take 
hold  of  the  stem  of  a  small  tree  that  lies  opportunely 
transversely  across  the  water.  The  bottom  is  uneven, 
with  rocks  of  various  size,  against  which  it  is  difficult 
to  keep  from  stumbling,  so  rapid  is  the  stream.  Some 
times  it  bears  along  branches  and  strips  of  bark,  — 
sometimes  a  green  leaf,  or  perchance  a  dry  one,  —  oc 
casionally  overwhelmed  by  the  eddies  and  borne  deep 
nnder  water,  then  rushing  atop  the  waves. 

The  forest,  bordering  the  stream,  produces  its  effect 
by  a  complexity  of  causes,  —  the  old  and  stern  trees, 
with  stately  trunks  and  dark  foliage?  —  as  the  almost 


176  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  V1838 

black  pines,  —  the  young  trees,  witli  lightsome  green 
foliage,  —  as  sapling  oaks,  maples,  and  poplars,  —  then 
the  old,  decayed  trunks,  that  are  seen  lying  here  and 
there,  all  mouldered,  so  that  the  foot  would  sink  into 
them.  The  sunshine,  falling  capriciously  on  a  casual 
branch  considerably  within  the  forest  verge,  while  it 
leaves  nearer  trees  in  shadow,  leads  the  imagination 
into  the  depths.  But  it  soon  becomes  bewildered  there. 
Rocks  strewn  about,  half  hidden  in  the  fallen  leaves, 
must  not  be  overlooked. 

August  26th.  —  A  funeral  last  evening,  nearly  at 
sunset,  —  a  coffin  of  a  boy  about  ten  years  old  laid  on 
a  one-horse  wagon  among  some  straw,  —  two  or  three 
barouches  and  wagons  following.  As  the  funeral 
passed  through  the  village  street,  a  few  men  formed  a 
short  procession  in  front  of  the  coffin,  among  whom 

were  Orrin  S and  I.  The  burial-ground  (there 

are  two  in  the  town)  is  on  the  sides  and  summit  of  a 
round  hill,  which  is  planted  with  cypress  and  other 
trees,  among  which  the  white  marble  gTavestones  show 
pleasantly.  The  grave  was  dug  on  the  steep  slope  of 
a  hill ;  and  the  grave-digger  was  waiting  there,  and  two 
or  three  other  shirt-sleeved  yeomen,  leaning  against  the 
trees. 

Orrin  S ,  a  wanton  and  mirth-making  middle- 
aged  man,  who  would  not  seem  to  have  much  domestic 
feeling,  took  a  chief  part  on  the  occasion,  assisting  in 
taking  the  coffin  from  the  wagon  and  in  lowering  it 
into  the  grave.  There  being  some  superfluous  earth 
at  the  bottom  of  the  grave,  the  coffin  was  drawn  up 
again  after  being  once  lowered,  and  the  obstacle  re 
moved  with  a  hoe ;  then  it  was  lowered  again  for  the 
last  time.  While  this  was  going  on,  the  father  and 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  177 

mother  stood  weeping  at  the  upper  end  of  the  grave, 
at  the  head  of  the  little  procession,  —  the  mother  sol> 
bing  with  stifled  violence,  and  peeping  forth  to  dis 
cover  why  the  coffin  was  drawn  up  again.  It  being 

fitted  in  its  place,  Orrin  S strewed  some  straw 

upon  it,  —  this  being  the  custom  here,  because  "  the 
clods  on  the  coffin-lid  have  an  ugly  sound."  Then  the 
Baptist  minister,  having  first  whispered  to  the  father, 
removed  his  hat,  the  spectators  all  doing  the  same,  and 
thanked  them  "  in  the  name  of  these  mourners,  for 
this  last  act  of  kindness  to  them." 

In  all  these  rites  Orrin  S bore  the  chief  part 

with  real  feeling  and  sadly  decorous  demeanor.  After 
the  funeral,  I  took  a  walk  on  the  Williamstown  road, 
towards  the  west.  There  had  been  a  heavy  shower  in 
the  afternoon,  and  clouds  were  brilliant  all  over  the 
sky,  around  Graylock  and  everywhere  else.  Those 
over  the  hills  of  the  west  were  the  most  splendid  in 
purple  and  gold,  and,  there  being  a  haze,  it  added  im 
mensely  to  their  majesty  and  dusky  magnificence. 

This  morning  I  walked  a  little  way  along  the  moun 
tain  road,  and  stood  awhile  in  the  shadow  of  some  oak 
and  chestnut-trees,  —  it  being  a  warm,  bright,  sunshiny 
morning.  The  shades  lay  long  from  trees  and  other 
objects,  as  at  sunset,  but  how  different  this  cheerful 
and  light  radiance  from  the  mild  repose  of  sunset! 
Locusts,  crickets,  and  other  insects  were  making  mu 
sic.  Cattle  were  feeding  briskly,  with  morning  appe 
tites.  The  wakeful  voices  of  children  were  heard  in  a 
neighboring  hollow.  The  dew  damped  the  road,  and 
formed  many- colored  drops  in  the  grass.  In  short, 
the  world  was  not  weary  with  a  long,  sultry  day,  but 
in  a  fresh,  recruited  state,  fit  to  carry  it  through  such 
*  day. 

TOL.  IX.  12 


178  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1888 

A  rough-looking,  sunburnt,  soiled-shirted,  odd,  mid 
dle-aged  little  man  came  to  the  house  a  day  or  two 
ago,  seeking  work.  He  had  come  from  Ohio,  and  was 
returning  to  his  native  place,  somewhere  in  New  Eng 
land,  stopping  occasionally  to  earn  money  to  pay  his 
way.  There  was  something  rather  ludicrous  in  his 
physiognomy  and  aspect.  He  was  very  free  to  talk 
with  all  and  sundry.  He  made  a  long  eulogy  on  his 
dog  Tiger,  yesterday,  insisting  on  his  good  moral  char 
acter,  his  not  being  quarrelsome,  his  docility,  and  all 
other  excellent  qualities  that  a  huge,  strong,  fierce 
mastiff  could  have.  Tiger  is  the  bully  of  the  village, 
and  keeps  all  the  other  dogs  in  awe.  His  aspect  is 
very  spirited,  trotting  massively  along,  with  his  tail 
elevated  and  his  head  likewise.  "  When  he  sees  a  dog 
that 's  anything  near  his  size,  he  's  apt  to  growl  a  lit 
tle,"  —  Tiger  had  the  marks  of  a  battle  on  him,  — • 
"  yet  he 's  a  good  dog." 

Friday ',  August  31s£. —  A  drive  on  Tuesday  to 
Shelburne  Falls,  twenty-two  miles  or  thereabouts  dis 
tant.  Started  at  about  eight  o'clock  in  a  wagon  with 
Mr.  Leach  and  Mr.  Birch.  Our  road  lay  over  the 
Green  Mountains,  the  long  ridge  of  which  made  aw 
ful  by  a  dark,  heavy,  threatening  cloud,  apparently 
rolled  and  condensed  along  the  whole  summit.  As 
we  ascended  the  zigzag  road,  we  looked  behind,  at 
every  opening  in  the  forest,  and  beheld  a  wide  land 
scape  of  mountain-swells  and  valleys  intermixed,  and 
old  Graylock  and  the  whole  of  Saddleback.  Over  the 
wide  scene  there  was  a  general  gloom  ;  but  there  was 
a  continual  vicissitude  of  bright  sunshine  flitting  over 
it,  now  resting  for  a  brief  space  on  portions  of  the 
heights,  now  flooding  the  valleys  with  green  bright- 


J838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  179 

ness,  now  making  out  distinctly  each  dwelling,  and 
the  hotels,  and  then  two  small  brick  churches  of  the 
distant  village,  denoting  its  prosperity,  while  al]  around 
seemed  under  adverse  fortunes.  But  we,  who  stood 
so  elevated  above  mortal  things,  and  saw  so  wide  and 
far,  could  see  the  sunshine  of  prosperity  departing 
from  one  spot  and  rolling  towards  another,  so  that  we 
could  not  think  it  much  matter  which  spot  were  sunny 
or  gloomy  at  any  one  moment. 

The  top  of  this  Hoosic  Mountain  is  a  long  ridge, 
marked  on  the  county  map  as  two  thousand  one  hun 
dred  and  sixty  feet  above  the  sea ;  on  this  summit  is 
a  valley,  not  very  deep,  but  one  or  two  miles  wide,  in 
which  is  the  town  of  L .  Here  there  are  respec 
table  farmers,  though  it  is  a  rough,  and  must  be  a 
bleak  place.  The  first  house,  after  reaching  the  sum 
mit,  is  a  small,  homely  tavern.  We  left  our  horse  in 
the  shed,  and,  entering  the  little  unpainted  bar-room, 
we  heard  a  voice,  in  a  strange,  outlandish  accent,  ex 
claiming  "  Diorama."  It  was  an  old  man,  with  a  full, 
gray-bearded  countenance,  and  Mr.  Leach  exclaimed, 
"  Ah,  here  *s  the  old  Dutchman  again  !  "  And  he  an 
swered,  "  Yes,  Captain,  here 's  the  old  Dutchman,"  — 
though,  by  the  way,  he  is  a  German,  and  travels  the 
country  with  this  diorama  in  a  wagon,  and  had  re 
cently  been  at  South  Adams,  and  was  now  returning 
from  Saratoga  Springs.  We  looked  through  the  glass 
orifice  of  his  machine,  while  he  exhibited  a  succession 
of  the  very  worst  scratches  and  daubings  that  can  be 
imagined,  —  worn  out,  too,  and  full  of  cracks  and 
wrinkles,  dimmed  with  tobacco-smoke,  and  every  other 
wise  dilapidated.  There  were  none  in  a  later  fashion 
than  thirty  years  since,  except  some  figures  that  had 
been  cut  from  tailors'  show-bills.  There  were  views 


180  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1538, 

of  cities  and  edifices  in  Europe,  of  Napoleon's  battles 
and  Nelson's  sea-fights,  in  the  midst  of  which  would 
be  seen  a  gigantic,  brown,  hairy  hand  (the  Hand  of 
Destiny)  pointing  at  the  principal  points  of  the  con 
flict,  while  the  old  Dutchman  explained.  He  gave  a 
good  deal  of  dramatic  effect  to  his  descriptions,  but 
his  accent  and  intonation  cannot  be  written.  He 
seemed  to  take  interest  and  pride  in  his  exhibition  ; 
yet  when  the  utter  and  ludicrous  miserability  thereof 
made  us  laugh,  he  joined  in  the  joke  very  readily. 
When  the  last  picture  had  been  shown,  he  caused  a 
country  boor,  who  stood  gaping  beside  the  machine,  to 
put  his  head  within  it,  and  thrust  out  his  tongue. 
The  head  becoming  gigantic,  a  singular  effect  was 
produced. 

The  old  Dutchman's  exhibition  being  over,  a  great 
dog,  apparently  an  elderly  dog,  suddenly  made  him 
self  the  object  of  notice,  evidently  in  rivalship  of  the 
Dutchman.  He  had  seemed  to  be  a  good-natured, 
quiet  kind  of  dog,  offering  his  head  to  be  patted  by 
those  who  were  kindly  disposed  towards  him.  This 
great,  old  dog,  unexpectedly,  and  of  his  own  motion, 
began  to  run  round  after  his  not  very  long  tail  with 
the  utmost  eagerness ;  and,  catching  hold  of  it,  he 
growled  furiously  at  it,  and  still  continued  to  circle 
round,  growling  and  snarling  with  increasing  rage,  as 
if  one  half  of  his  body  were  at  deadly  enmity  with  the 
other.  Faster  and  faster  went  he,  round  and  round 
about,  growing  still  fiercer,  till  at  last  he  ceased  in  a 
state  of  utter  exhaustion ;  but  no  sooner  had  his  exhi 
bition  finished  than  he  became  the  same  mild,  quiet, 
sensible  old  dog  as  before  ;  and  no  one  could  have  sus 
pected  him  of  such  nonsense  as  getting  enraged  with 
his  own  tail.  He  was  first  taught  this  trick  by  attach 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  181 

ing  a  bell  to  the  end  of  his  tail ;  but  he  now  com 
mences  entirely  of  his  own  accord,  and  I  really  believe 
he  feels  vain  at  the  attention  he  excites. 

It  was  chill  and  bleak  on  the  mountain-top,  and  a 
fire  was  burning  in  the  bar-room.  The  old  Dutchman 
bestowed  on  everybody  the  title  of  "  Captain,"  per 
haps  because  such  a  title  has  a  great  chance  of  suiting 
an  American. 

Leaving  the  tavern,  we  drove  a  mile  or  two  farther 
to  the  eastern  brow  of  the  mountain,  whence  we  had  a 
view,  over  the  tops  of  a  multitude  of  heights,  into  the 
intersecting  valleys  down  which  we  were  to  plunge,  — 
and  beyond  them  the  blue  and  indistinctive  scene  ex 
tended  to  the  east  and  north  for  at  least  sixty  miles. 
Beyond  the  hills  it  looked  almost  as  if  the  blue  ocean 
might  be  seen.  Monadnock  was  visible,  like  a  sap 
phire  cloud  against  the  sky.  Descending,  we  by  and 
by  got  a  view  of  the  Deerfield  River,  which  makes  a 
bend  in  its  course  from  about  north  and  south  to 
about  east  and  west,  coming  out  from  one  defile  among 
the  mountains,  and  flowing  through  another.  The 
scenery  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  Green  Mountains 
is  incomparably  more  striking  than  on  the  western, 
where  the  long  swells  and  ridges  have  a  flatness  of  ef 
fect  ;  and  even  Graylock  heaves  itself  so  gradually 
fchat  it  does  not  much  strike  the  beholder.  But  on  the 
eastern  part,  peaks  one  or  two  thousand  feet  high  rush 
up  on  either  bank  of  the  river  in  ranges,  thrusting  out 
their  shoidders  side  by  side.  They  are  almost  precip 
itous,  clothed  in  woods,  through  which  the  naked  rock 
pushes  itself  forth  to  view.  Sometimes  the  peak  is 
bald,  while  the  forest  wraps  the  body  of  the  hill,  and 
the  baldness  gives  it  an  indescribably  stern  effect. 
Sometimes  the  precipice  rises  with  abruptness  from 


182  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838. 

the  immediate  side  of  the  river  ;  sometimes  there  is  a 
cultivated  valley  on  either  side,  —  cultivated  long,  and 
with  all  the  smoothness  and  antique  rurality  of  a  farm 
near  cities,  —  this  gentle  picture  strongly  set  off  by 
the  wild  mountain-frame  around  it.  Often  it  would 
seem  a  wonder  how  our  road  was  to  continue,  the 
mountains  rose  so  abruptly  on  either  side,  and  stood, 
so  direct  a  wall,  across  our  onward  course  ;  while, 
looking  behind,  it  would  be  an  equal  mystery  how  we 
had  gotten  thither,  through  the  huge  base  of  the 
mountain,  that  seemed  to  have  reared  itself  erect  after 
our  passage.  But,  passing  onward,  a  narrow  defile 
would  give  us  egress  into  a  scene  where  new  moun 
tains  would  still  appear  to  bar  us.  Our  road  was 
much  of  it  level ;  but  scooped  out  among  mountains. 
The  river  was  a  brawling  stream,  shallow  and  rough 
ened  by  rocks ;  now  we  drove  on  a  plane  with  it ;  now 
there  was  a  sheer  descent  down  from  the  roadside 
upon  it,  often  unguarded  by  any  kind  of  fence,  except 
by  the  trees  that  contrived  to  grow  on  the  headlong 
interval.  Between  the  mountains  there  were  gorges, 
that  led  the  imagination  away  into  new  scenes  of  wild- 
ness.  I  have  never  driven  through  such  romantic 
scenery,  where  there  was  such  a  variety  and  boldness 
of  mountain  shapes  as  this ;  and  though  it  was  a  broad 
sunny  day,  the  mountains  diversified  the  view  with 
sunshine  and  shadow,  and  glory  and  gloom. 

In  Charlemont  (I  think),  after  passing  a  bridge, 
we  saw  a  very  curious  rock  on  the  shore  of  the  river, 
about  twenty  feet  from  the  roadside.  Clambering 
down  the  bank,  we  found  it  a  complete  arch,  hollowed 
out  of  the  solid  rock,  and  as  high  as  the  arched  en 
trance  of  an  ancient  church,  which  it  might  be  taken 
to  be,  though  considerably  dilapidated  and  weather- 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  183 

worn.  The  water  flows  through  it,  though  the  rock 
afforded  standing  room,  beside  the  pillars.  It  was 
really  like  the  archway  of  an  enchanted  palace,  all  of 
which  has  vanished  except  the  entrance,  —  now  only 
into  nothingness  and  empty  space.  We  climbed  to 
the  top  of  the  arch,  in  which  the  traces  of  water  hav 
ing  eddied  are  very  perceptible.  This  curiosity  occurs 
in  a  wild  part  of  the  river's  course,  and  in  a  solitude 
of  mountains. 

Farther  down,  the  river  becoming  deeper,  broader, 
and  more  placid,  little  boats  were  seen  moored  along 
it,  for  the  convenience  of  crossing.  Sometimes,  too, 
the  well-beaten  track  of  wheels  and  hoofs  passed  down 
to  its  verge,  then  vanished,  and  appeared  on  the  other 
side,  indicating  a  ford.  We-  saw  one  house,  pretty, 
small,  with  green  blinds,  and  much  quietness  in  its 
environments  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  with  a 
flat-bottomed  boat  for  communication.  It  was  a  pleas 
ant  idea  that  the  world  was  kept  off  by  the  river. 

Proceeding  onward,  we  reached  Shelburne  Falls. 
Here  the  river,  in  the  distance  of  a  few  hundred  yards, 
makes  a  descent  of  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  over 
a  prodigious  bed  of  rock.  Formerly  it  doubtless  flowed 
unbroken  over  the  rock,  merely  creating  a  rapid  ;  and 
traces  of  water  having  raged  over  it  are  visible  in  por 
tions  of  the  rock  that  now  lie  high  and  dry.  At  pres 
ent  the  river  roars  through  a  channel  which  it  has 
worn  in  the  stone,  leaping  in  two  or  three  distinct 
falls,  and  rushing  downward,  as  from  flight  to  flight 
of  a  broken  and  irregular  staircase.  The  mist  rises 
from  the  highest  of  these  cataracts,  and  forms  a  pleas 
ant  object  in  the  sunshine.  The  best  view,  I  think,  is 
to  stand  on  the  verge  of  the  upper  and  largest  fall, 
and  look  down  through  the  whole  rapid  descent  of  the 


184  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838 

river,  as  it  hurries,  foaming,  through  its  rock  -  worn 
path,  —  the  rocks  seeming  to  have  been  hewn  away, 
as  when  mortals  make  a  road.  These  falls  are  the 
largest  in  this  State,  and  have  a  very  peculiar  charac 
ter.  It  seems  as  if  water  had  had  more  power  at  some 
former  period  than  now,  to  hew  and  tear  its  passage 
through  such  an  immense  ledge  of  rock  as  here  with 
stood  it.  In  this  crag,  or  parts  of  it,  now  far  beyond 
the  reach  of  the  water,  it  has  worn  what  are  called 
pot-holes,  —  being  circular  hollows  in  the  rock,  where 
for  ages  stones  have  been  whirled  round  and  round 
by  the  eddies  of  the  water  ;  so  that  the  interior  of  the 
pot  is  as  circular  and  as  smooth  as  it  could  have  been 
made  by  art.  Often  the  mouth  of  the  pot  is  the  nar 
rowest  part,  the  inner  space  being  deeply  scooped  out. 
Water  is  contained  in  most  of  these  pot-holes,  some 
times  so  deep  that  a  man  might  drown  himself  there 
in,  and  lie  undetected  at  the  bottom.  Some  of  them 
are  of  a  convenient  size  for  cooking,  which  might  be 
practicable  by  putting  in  hot  stones. 

The  tavern  at  Shelburne  Falls  was  about  the  worst 
I  ever  saw,  —  there  being  hardly  anything  to  eat,  at 
least  nothing  of  the  meat  kind.  There  was  a  party  of 
students  from  the  Rensselaer  school  at  Troy,  who  had 
spent  the  night  there,  a  set  of  rough  urchins,  from  six* 
teen  to  twenty  years  old,  accompanied  by  the  wagon- 
driver,  a  short,  stubbed  little  fellow,  who  walked  about 
with  great  independence,  thrusting  his  hands  into  his 
breeches  -  pockets,  beneath  his  frock.  The  queerness 
was,  such  a  figure  being  associated  with  classic  youth. 
They  were  on  an  excursion  which  is  yearly  made  from 
that  school  in  search  of  minerals.  They  seemed  in 
rather  better  moral  habits  than  students  used  to  be, 
but  wild-spirited,  rude,  and  unpolished,  somewhat  like 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  185 

German  students,  which  resemblance  one  or  two  of 
them  increased  by  smoking*  pipes.  In  the  morning, 
my  breakfast  being  set  in  a  corner  of  the  same  room 
with  them,  I  saw  their  breakfast  -  table,  with  a  hugo 
wash-bowl  of  milk  in  the  centre,  and  a  basin  and 
spoon  placed  for  each  guest. 

In  the  bar-room  of  this  tavern  were  posted  up  writ 
ten  advertisements,  the  smoked  chimney  -  piece  being 
thus  made  to  serve  for  a  newspaper  :  "  I  have  rye  for 
sale,"  "  I  have  a  fine  mare  colt,"  etc.  There  was  one 
quaintly  expressed  advertisement  of  a  horse  that  had 
strayed  or  been  stolen  from  a  pasture. 

The  students,  from  year  to  year,  have  been  in  search 
of  a  particular  rock,  somewhere  on  the  mountains  in 
the  vicinity  of  Shelburne  Falls,  which  is  supposed  to 
contain  some  valuable  ore ;  but  they  cannot  find  it. 
One  man  in  the  bar-room  observed  that  it  must  be  en- 
ohanted ;  and  spoke  of  a  tinker,  during  the  Revolu- 
tionary  War,  who  met  with  a  somewhat  similar  in 
stance.  Roaming  along  the  Hudson  River,  he  came 
to  a  precipice  which  had  some  bunches  of  singular  ap 
pearance  embossed  upon  it.  He  knocked  off  one  of 
the  bunches,  and  carrying  it  home,  or  to  a  camp,  or 
wherever  he  lived,  he  put  it  on  the  fire,  and  melted  it 
down  into  clear  lead.  He  sought  for  the  spot  again 
and  again,  but  could  never  find  it. 

Mr.  Leach's  brother  is  a  student  at  Shelburne  Falls. 
He  is  about  thirty-five  years  old,  and  married ;  and 
at  this  mature  age  he  is  studying  for  the  ministry,  and 
will  not  finish  his  course  for  two  or  three  years.  He 
was  bred  a  farmer,  but  has  sold  his  farm,  and  invested 
the  money,  and  supports  himself  and  wife  by  dentistry 
during  his  studies.  Many  of  the  academy  students  are 
men  grown,  and  some,  they  say,  well  towards  fortj 


186  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS,  [183a 

years  old.  Metliinks  this  is  characteristic  of  American 
life,  —  these  rough,  weather-beaten,  hard-handed,  far 
mer-bred  students.  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten  they  are 
incapable  of  any  effectual  cultivation ;  for  men  of  ripe 
years,  if  they  have  any  pith  in  them,  will  have  long 
ago  got  beyond  academy  or  even  college  instruction. 
I  suspect  nothing  better  than  a  very  wretched  smatter 
ing  is  to  be  obtained  in  these  country  academies. 

Mr.  Jenkins,  an  instructor  at  Amherst,  speaking  of 
the  Western  mounds,  expressed  an  opinion  that  they 
were  of  the  same  nature  and  origin  as  some  small  cir 
cular  hills  which  are  of  very  frequent  occurrence  here 
in  North  Adams.  The  burial-ground  is  on  one  of 
them,  and  there  is  another,  on  the  summit  of  which  ap 
pears  a  single  tombstone,  as  if  there  were  something 
natural  in  making  these  hills  the  repositories  of  the 

dead.     A  question  of  old  H led  to  Mr.  Jenkins's 

dissertation  on  this  subject,  to  the  great  contentment 
of  a  large  circle  round  the  bar-room  fireside  on  the  last 
rainy  day. 

A  tailor  is  detected  by  Mr.  Leach,  because  his  coat 
had  not  a  single  wrinkle  in  it.  I  saw  him  exhibiting 
patterns  of  fashions  to  Randall,  the  village  tailor.  Mr. 
Leach  has  much  tact  in  finding  out  the  professions  of 
people.  He  found  out  a  blacksmith,  because  his  right 
hand  was  much  larger  than  the  other. 

A  man  getting  subscriptions  for  a  religious  and  abo 
lition  newspaper  in  New  York,  —  somewhat  elderly 
and  gray-haired,  quick  in  his  movements,  hasty  in  his 
walk,  with  an  eager,  earnest  stare  through  his  specta 
cles,  hurrying  about  with  a  pocket-book  of  subscrip 
tions  in  his  hand,  —  seldom  speaking,  aad  then  in 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  187 

brief  expressions,  —  sitting  down  before  the  stage 
conies,  to  write  a  list  of  subscribers  obtained  to  his 
employers  in  New  York.  Withal,  a  city  and  business 
air  about  him,  as  of  one  accustomed  to  hurry  through 
narrow  alleys,  and  dart  across  thronged  streets,  and 
speak  hastily  to  one  man  and  another  at  jostling  cor 
ners,  though  now  transacting  his  affairs  in  the  solitude 
of  mountains. 

An  old,  gray  man,  seemingly  astray  and  abandoned 
in  this  wide  world,  sitting  in  the  bar-room,  speaking  to 
none,  nor  addressed  by  any  one.  Not  understanding 
the  meaning  of  the  supper-bell  till  asked  to  supper  by 
word  of  mouth.  However,  he  called  for  a  glass  of 
brandy. 

A  pedlar,  with  girls'  neckerchiefs,  —  or  gauze,  — - 
men's  silk  pocket-handkerchiefs,  red  bandannas,  and  a 
variety  of  horn  combs,  trying  to  trade  with  the  ser 
vant-girls  of  the  house.  One  of  them,  Laura,  attempts 
to  exchange  a  worked  vandyke,  which  she  values  at 
two  dollars  and  a  half  ;  Eliza,  being  reproached  by 
the  pedlar,  "  vows  that  she  buys  more  of  pedlars  than 
any  other  person  in  the  house." 

A  drove  of  pigs  passing  at  dusk.  They  appeared 
not  so  much  disposed  to  ramble  and  go  astray  from 
the  line  of  march  as  in  daylight,  but  kept  together  in 
a  pretty  compact  body.  There  was  a  general  grunt 
ing,  not  violent  at  all,  but  low  and  quiet,  as  if  they 
were  expressing  their  sentiments  among  themselves  in 
a  companionable  way.  Pigs,  on  a  march,  do  not  sub 
ject  themselves  to  any  leader  among  themselves,  but 
pass  on,  higgledy-piggledy,  without  regard  to  age  oi 
iex. 


188  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS. 

/September  1st.  —  Last  evening,  during  a  walk, 
Graylock  and  the  whole  of  Saddleback  were  at  first 
imbued  with  a  mild,  half-sunshiny  tinge,  then  grew 
almost  black,  —  a  huge,  dark  mass  lying  on  the  back 
of  the  earth  and  encumbering  it.  Stretching  up  from 
behind  the  black  mountain,  over  a  third  or  more  of 
the  sky,  there  was  a  heavy,  sombre  blue  heap  or  ledge 
of  clouds,  looking  almost  as  solid  as  rocks.  The  vol 
umes  of  which  it  was  composed  were  perceptible  by 
translucent  lines  and  fissures;  but  the  mass,  as  a 
whole,  seemed  as  solid,  bulky,  and  ponderous  in  the 
cloud-world  as  the  mountain  was  on  earth.  The 
mountain  and  cloud  together  had  an  indescribably 
stern  and  majestic  aspect.  Beneath  this  heavy  cloud, 
there  was  a  fleet  or  flock  of  light,  vapory  mists,  flitting 
in  middle  air  ;  and  these  were  tinted,  from  the  van 
ished  sun,  with  the  most  gorgeous  and  living  purple 
that  can  be  conceived,  —  a  fringe  upon  the  stern  blue. 
In  the  opposite  quarter  of  the  heavens,  a  rose -light 
was  reflected,  whence  I  know  not,  which  colored  the 
clouds  around  the  moon,  then  well  above  the  horizon, 
so  that  the  nearly  round  and  silver  moon  appeared 
strangely  among  roseate  clouds,  —  sometimes  half  ob 
scured  by  them. 

A  man  with  a  smart  horse,  upon  which  the  landlord 
makes  laudatory  remarks.  He  replies  that  he  has  "  ? 
better  at  home."  Dressed  in  a  brown,  bright-buttoned 
coat,  smartly  cut.  He  immediately  becomes  familiar, 
and  begins  to  talk  of  the  license  law,  and  other  similar 
topics,  making  himself  at  home,  as  one  who,  being 
much  of  his  time  upon  the  road,  finds  himself  at  ease 
&t  any  tavern.  He  inquired  after  a  stage  agent, 
earned  Brigham,  who  formerly  resided  here,  but  no\f 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  189 

has  gone  to  the  West.     He  himself  was  probably  a 
horse-jockey, 

An  old  lady,  stopping  here  over  the  Sabbath,  wait 
ing  for  to-morrow's  stage  for  Greenfield,  having  been 
deceived  by  the  idea  that  she  could  proceed  on  her 
journey  without  delay.    Quiet,  making  herself  comfor; 
able,  taken  into  the  society  of  the  women  of  the  house, 

September  3J.  —  On  the  slope  of  Bald  Mountain  a 
clearing,  set  in  the  frame  of  the  forest  on  all  sides,  — 
a  growth  of  clover  upon  it,  which,  having  been  mowed 
once  this  year,  is  now  appropriated  to  pasturage. 
Stumps  remaining  in  the  ground  ;  one  tall,  barkless 
stem  of  a  tree  standing  upright,  branchless,  and  with  a 
shattered  summit.  One  or  two  other  stems  lying  pros 
trate  and  partly  overgrown  with  bushes  and  shrubbery, 
some  of  them  bearing  a  yellow  flower,  —  a  color  which 
Autumn  loves.  The  stumps  and  trunks  fire  -  black 
ened,  yet  nothing  about  them  that  indicates  a  recent 
clearing,  but  the  roughness  of  an  old  clearing,  that, 
being  removed  from  convenient  labor,  has  none  of  the 
polish  of  the  homestead.  The  field,  with  slight  undu 
lations,  slopes  pretty  directly  down.  Near  the  lower 
verge,  a  rude  sort  of  barn,  or  rather  haystack  roofed 
over,  and  with  hay  protruding  and  hanging  out.  An 
ox  feeding,  and  putting  up  his  muzzle  to  pull  down  a 
mouthful  of  hay;  but  seeing  me,  a  stranger,  in  the 
upper  part  of  the  field,  he  remains  long  gazing,  and 
finally  betakes  himself  to  feeding  again.  A  solitary 
butterfly  flitting  to  and  fro,  blown  slightly  on  its 
couise  by  a  cool  September  wind,  — —  the  coolness  of 
which  begins  to  be  tempered  by  a  bright,  glittering 
»un.  There  is  dew  on  the  grass.  In  front,  beyond 


190  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838. 

the  lower  spread  of  forest,  Saddle  Mountain  rises>  and 
the  valleys,  and  long,  swelling  hills  sweep  away.  But 
the  impression  of  this  clearing  is  solitude,  as  of  a  for 
gotten  land. 

It  is  customary  here  to  toll  the  bell  at  the  death  of 
a  person,  at  the  hour  of  his  death,  whether  A.  M.  or 
p.  M.  Not,  however,  I  suppose,  if  it  happen  in  deep 
night. 

"  There  are  three  times  in  a  man's  life  when  he  is 
talked  about,  —  when  he  is  born,  when  he  is  married, 

and  when  he  dies."     "  Yes,"  said  Orrin  S ,  "  and 

only  one  of  the  times  has  he  to  pay  anything  for  it  out 
of  his  own  pocket."  (In  reference  to  a  claim  by  the 
guests  of  the  bar-room  on  the  man  Amasa  Richardson 
for  a  treat.) 

A  wood-chopper,  travelling  the  country  in  search  of 
jobs  at  chopping.  His  baggage  a  bundle,  a  handker 
chief,  and  a  pair  of  coarse  boots.  His  implement  an 
axe,  most  keenly  ground  and  sharpened,  which  I  had 
noticed  standing  in  a  corner,  and  thought  it  would  al 
most  serve  as  a  razor.  I  saw  another  wood-chopper 
sitting  down  on  the  ascent  of  Bald  Mountain,  with  his 
axe  on  one  side  and  a  jug  and  provisions  on  the  other, 
on  the  way  to  his  day's  toil. 

The  Revolutionary  pensioners  come  out  into  the  sun 
shine  to  make  oath  that  they  are  still  above  ground. 

One,  whom  Mr.  S saluted  as  "  Uncle  John,"  went 

into  the  bar-room,  walking  pretty  stoutly  by  the  aid 
of  a  long,  oaken  staff,  —  with  an  old,  creased,  broken 
and  ashen  bell-crowned  hat  on  his  head,  and  wearing 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  191 

a  brown,  old-fashioned  suit  of  clothes.  Pretty  portly, 
fleshy  in  the  face,  and  with  somewhat  of  a  paunch, 
cheerful,  and  his  senses,  bodily  and  mental,  in  no  very 
bad  order,  though  he  is  now  in  his  ninetieth  year. 
5<  An  old  withered  and  wilted  apple,"  quoth  Uncle 

John,   "  keeps  a  good  while."     Mr.   S says  his 

grandfather  lived  to  be  a  hundred,  and  that  his  legs 
became  covered  with  moss,  like  the  trunk  of  an  old 
tree.  Uncle  John  would  smile  and  cackle  at  a  little 
jest,  and  what  life  there  was  in  him  seemed  a  good- 
natured  and  comfortable  one  enough.  He  can  walk 
two  or  three  miles,  he  says,  "  taking  it  moderate."  I 
suppose  his  state  is  that  of  a  drowsy  man  but  partly 
conscious  of  life,  —  walking  as  through  a  dim  dream, 
but  brighter  at  some  seasons  than  at  others.  By  and 
by  he  will  fall  quite  asleep,  without  any  trouble.  Mr. 

S ,  unbidden,  gave  him  a  glass  of  gin,  which  the 

old  man  imbibed  by  the  warm  fireside,  and  grew  the 
younger  for  it. 

September  4th.  —  This  day  an  exhibition  of  animals 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  village,  under  a  pavilion  of  sail 
cloth,  —  the  floor  being  the  natural  grass,  with  here 
and  there  a  rock  partially  protruding.  A  pleasant, 
mild  shade  ;  a  strip  of  sunshine  or  a  spot  of  glimmer- 
ing  brightness  in  some  parts.  Crowded,  —  row  above 
row  of  women,  on  an  amphitheatre  of  seats,  on  one 
side.  In  an  inner  pavilion  an  exhibition  of  ana 
condas,  —  four,  —  which  the  showman  took,  one  by 
one,  from  a  large  box,  under  some  blankets,  and  hung 
round  his  shoulders.  They  seemed  almost  torpid 
when  first  taken  out,  but  gradually  began  to  assume 
life,  to  stretch,  to  contract,  twine  and  writhe  about  his 
neck  and  person,  thrusting  out  their  tongues  and 


192  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838 

erecting  their  heads.  Their  weight  was  as  much  as 
he  could  bear,  and  they  hung  down  almost  to  th« 
ground  when  not  contorted,  —  as  big  round  as  a  man'a 
thigh,  almost,  —  spotted  and  richly  variegated.  Then 
he  put  them  into  the  box  again,  their  heads  emerging 
and  writhing  forth,  which  the  showman  thrust  back 
again.  He  gave  a  descriptive  and  historical  account 
of  them,  and  a  fanciful  and  poetical  one  also.  A  man 
put  his  arm  and  head  into  the  lion's  mouth,  — all  the 
spectators  looking  on  so  attentively  that  a  breath 
could  not  be  heard.  That  was  impressive,  —  its  ef 
fect  on  a  thousand  persons,  —  more  so  than  the  thing 
itself. 

In  the  evening  the  caravan  people  were  at  the 
tavern,  talking  of  their  troubles  in  coming  over  the 
mountain,  —  the  overturn  of  a  cage  containing  two 
leopards  and  a  hyena.  They  are  a  rough,  ignorant 
set  of  men,  apparently  incapable  of  taking  any  partic 
ular  enjoyment  from  the  life  of  variety  and  adventure 
which  they  lead.  There  was  the  man  who  put  his 
head  into  the  lion's  mouth,  and,  I  suppose,  the  man 
about  whom  the  anacondas  twined,  talking  about  their 
suppers,  and  blustering  for  hot  meat,  and  calling  for 
something  to  drink,  without  anything  of  the  wild  dig 
nity  of  men  familiar  with  the  nobility  of  nature. 

A  character  of  a  desperate  young  man,  who  em 
ploys  high  courage  and  strong  faculties  in  this  sort  of 
dangers,  and  wastes  his  talents  in  wild  riot,  address 
ing  the  audience  as  a  snake-man,  —  keeping  the  ring 
while  the  monkey  rides  the  pony,  —  singing  negro  and 
other  songs. 

The  country  boors  were  continually  getting  withij 


1888,]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  198 

the  barriers,  and  venturing  too  near  the  cages.  The 
great  lion  lay  with  his  fore  paws  extended,  and  a  calm, 
majestic,  but  awful  countenance.  He  looked  on  the 
people  as  if  he  had  seen  many  such  concourses.  The 
hyena  was  the  most  ugly  and  dangerous  looking  beast, 
full  of  spite,  and  011  ill  terms  with  all  nature,  looking 
a  good  deal  like  a  hog  with  the  devil  in  him,  the  ridge 
of  hair  along  his  back  bristling.  He  was  in  the  cage 
with  a-  leopard  and  a  panther,  and  the  latter  seemed 
continually  on  the  point  of  laying  his  paw  on  the 
hyena,  who  snarled,  and  showed  his  teeth.  It  is 
strange,  though,  to  see  how  these  wild  beasts  acknowl 
edge  and  practise  a  degree  of  mutual  forbearance,  and 
of  obedience  to  man,  with  their  wild  nature  yet  in 
them.  The  great  white  bear  seemed  in  distress  from 
the  heat,  moving  his  head  and  body  in  a  peculiar,  fan 
tastic  way,  and  eagerly  drinking  water  when  given  it. 
He  was  thin  and  lank. 

The  caravan  men  were  so  sleepy,  Orrin  S says, 

that  he  could  hardly  wake  them  in  the  morning.  They 
turned  over  on  their  faces  to  show  him. 

Coming  out  of  the  caravansary,  there  were  the 
mountains,  in  the  quiet  sunset,  and  many  men  drunk, 
swearing,  and  fighting  Shanties  with  liquor  for  sale. 

The  elephant  lodged  in  the  barn. 

September  5th.  —  I  took  a  walk  of  three  miles  from 
the  village,  which  brought  me  into  Vermont.  The 
line  runs  athwart  a  bridge,  —  a  rude  bridge,  which 
crosses  a  mountain  stream.  The  stream  runs  deep  at 
the  bottom  of  a  gorge,  plashing  downward,  with  rapids 
and  pools,  and  bestrewn  with  large  rocks,  deep  and 
shady,  not  to  be  reached  by  the  sun  except  in  its 
neridian,  as  well  on  account  of  the  depth  of  the  gorg? 

IX.  13 


194  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [18S& 

as  of  the  arch  of  wilderness  trees  above  it.  There 
was  a  stumpy  clearing  beyond  the  bridge,  where  some 
men  were  building  a  house.  I  went  to  them,  and  in 
quired  if  I  were  in  Massachusetts  or  Vermont,  and 
asked  for  some  water.  Whereupon  they  showed  great 
hospitality,  and  the  master  -  workman  went  to  the 
spring,  and  brought  delicious  water  in  a  tin  basin, 
and  produced  another  jug  containing  "  new  rum,  and 
very  good ;  and  rum  does  nobody  any  harm  if  they 
make  a  good  use  of  it,"  quoth  he.  I  'invited  them  to 
call  on  me  at  the  hotel,  if  they  should  come  to  the  vil 
lage  within  two  or  three  days.  Then  I  took  my  way 
back  through  the  forest,  for  this  is  a  by-road,  and  is, 
much  of  its  course,  a  sequestrated  and  wild  one,  with 
an  unseen  torrent  roaring  at  an  unseen  depth,  along 
the  roadside. 

My  walk  forth  had  been  an  almost  continued  ascent, 
and,  returning,  I  had  an  excellent  view  of  Graylock 
and  the  adjacent  mountains,  at  such  a  distance  that 
they  were  all  brought  into  one  group,  and  compre 
hended  at  one  view,  as  belonging  to  the  same  com 
pany,  —  all  mighty,  with  a  mightier  chief.  As  I  drew 
nearer  home,  they  separated,  and  the  unity  of  effect 
was  lost.  The  more  distant  then  disappeared  behind 
the  nearer  ones,  and  finally  Graylock  itself  was  lost 
behind  the  hill  which  immediately  shuts  in  the  village. 
There  was  a  warm,  autumnal  haze,  which,  I  think, 
seemed  to  throw  the  mountains  farther  off,  and  both 
to  enlarge  and  soften  them. 

To  imagine  the  gorges  and  deep  hollows  in  among 
the  group  of  mountains,  —  their  huge  shoulders  and 
protrusions. 

"  They  were  just  beginning  to  pitch  over  the  moun< 
tains,  as  I  came  along,"  —  stage-driver's  expression 
about  the  caravan. 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  195 

A  fantastic  figure  of  a  village  coxcomb,  striding 
through  the  bar-room,  and  standing  with  folded  arms 
to  survey  the  caravan  men.  There  is  much  exaggera 
tion  and  rattle-brain  about  this  fellow. 

A  mad  girl  leaped  from  the  top  of  a  tremendous 
precipice  in  Pownall,  hundreds  of  feet  high,  if  the  tale 
be  true,  and,  being  buoyed  up  by  her  clothes,  came 
safely  to  the  bottom. 

Inquiries  about  the  coming  of  the  caravan,  and 
whether  the  elephant  had  got  to  town,  and  reports 
that  he  had. 

A  smart,  plump,  crimson  -  faced  gentleman,  with  a 
travelling-portmanteau  of  peculiar  neatness  and  con 
venience.  He  criticises  the  road  over  the  mountain, 
having  come  in  the  Greenfield  stage  ;  perhaps  an  en 
gineer. 

Bears  still  inhabit  Saddleback  and  the  neighboring 
mountains  and  forests.  Six  were  taken  in  Pownall 
last  year,  and  two  hundred  foxes.  Sometimes  they 
appear  on  the  hills,  in  close  proximity  to  this  village. 

September  7th.  —  Mr.  Leach  and  I  took  a  walk  by 
moonlight  last  evening,  on  the  road  that  leads  over 
the  mountain.  Remote  from  houses,  far  up  on  the 
hill-side,  we  found  a  lime-kiln,  burning  near  the  road ; 
and,  approaching  it,  a  watcher  started  from  the  ground, 
where  he  had  been  lying  at  his  length.  There  are  sev 
eral  of  these  lime-kilns  in  this  vicinity.  They  are  cir 
cular,  built  with  stones,  like  a  round  tower,  eighteen 
or  twenty  feet  high,  having  a  hillock  heaped  around  in 


198  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1858. 

a  great  portion  of  their  circumference,  so  that  the  mar 
ble  may  be  brought  and  thrown  in  by  cart-loads  at  the 
top.  At  the  bottom  there  is  a  doorway,  large  enough 
to  admit  a  man  in  a  stooping  posture.  Thus  an  edi 
fice  of  great  solidity  is  constructed,  which  will  endure 
for  centuries,  unless  needless  pains  are  taken  to  tear  it 
down.  There  is  one  on  the  hill-side,  close  to  the  vil 
lage,  wherein  weeds  grow  at  the  bottom,  and  grass  and 
shrubs  too  are  rooted  in  the  interstices  of  the  stones, 
and  its  low  doorway  has  a  dungeon-like  aspect,  and  we 
look  down  from  the  top  as  into  a  roofless  tower.  It 
apparently  has  not  been  used  for  many  years,  and  the 
lime  and  weather-stained  fragments  of  marble  are  scat 
tered  about. 

But  in  the  one  we  saw  last  night  a  hard-wood  fire 
was  burning  merrily,  beneath  the  superincumbent  mar 
ble,  —  the  kiln  being  heaped  full ;  and  shortly  after 
we  came,  the  man  (a  dark,  black-bearded  figure,  in 
shirt-sleeves)  opened  the  iron  door,  through  the  chinks 
of  which  the  fire  was  gleaming,  and  thrust  in  huge 
logs  of  wood,  and  stirred  the  immense  coals  with  a 
long  pole,  and  showed  us  the  glowing  limestone,  —  the 
lower  layer  of  it.  The  heat  of  the  fire  was  powerful, 
at  the  distance  of  several  yards  from  the  open  door. 
He  talked  very  sensibly  with  us,  being  doubtless  glad 
to  have  two  visitors  to  vary  his  solitary  night-watch  ; 
for  it  would  not  do  for  him  to  fall  asleep,  since  the  fire 
should  be  refreshed  as  often  as  every  twenty  minutes. 
We  ascended  the  hillock  to  the  top  of  the  kiln,  and 
the  marble  was  red  -  hot,  and  burning  with  a  bluish, 
lambent  flame,  quivering  up,  sometimes  nearly  a  yard 
high,  and  resembling  the  flame  of  anthracite  coal,  only, 
the  marble  being  in  large  fragments,  the  flame  was 
higher.  The  kiln  was  perhaps  six  or  eight  feet  across, 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  197 

Four  hundred  bushels  of  marble  were  then  in  a  state 
of  combustion.  The  expense  of  converting  this  quan 
tity  into  lime  is  about  fifty  dollars,  and  it  sells  for 
twenty-five  cents  per  bushel  at  the  kiln.  We  asked 
the  man  whether  he  would  run  across  the  top  of  the 
intensely  burning  kiln,  barefooted,  for  a  thousand  dol 
lars  ;  and  he  said  he  would  for  ten.  He  told  us  that 
the  lime  had  been  burning  forty-eight  hours,  and 
would  be  finished  in  thirty-six  more.  He  liked  the 
business  of  watching  it  better  by  night  than  by  day ; 
because  the  days  were  often  hot,  but  such  a  mild  and 
beautiful  night  as  the  last  was  just  right.  Here  a 
poet  might  make  verses  with  moonlight  in  them,  and 
a  gleam  of  fierce  fire-light  flickering  through.  It  is  a 
shame  to  use  this  brilliant,  white,  almost  transparent 
marble  in  this  way.  A  man  said  of  it,  the  other  day, 
that  into  some  pieces  of  it,  when  polished,  one  could 
see  a  good  distance  ;  and  he  instanced  a  certain  grave 
stone. 

Visited  the  cave.  A  large  portion  of  it,  where  water 
trickles  and  falls,  is  perfectly  white.  The  walls  pre 
sent  a  specimen  of  how  Nature  packs  the  stone,  crowd 
ing  huge  masses,  as  it  were,  into  chinks  and  fissures, 
and  here  we  see  it  in  the  perpendicular  or  horizontal 
layers,  as  Nature  laid  it. 

September  Qth. — A  walk  yesterday  forenoon  through 
the  Notch,  formed  between  Saddle  Mountain  and  an 
other  adjacent  one.  This  Notch  is  otherwise  called  the 
Bellowspipe,  being  a  long  and  narrow  valley,  with  a 
steep  wall  on  either  side.  The  walls  are  very  high, 
and  the  fallen  timbers  lie  strewed  adown  the  precipi 
tous  descent.  The  valley  gradually  descends  from  the 


198  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [183a 

narrowest  part  of  the  Notch,  and  a  stream  of  water 
flows  through  the  midst  of  it,  which,  farther  onward  in 
its  course,  turns  a  mill.  The  valley  is  cultivated,  there 
being  two  or  three  farm-houses  towards  the  northern 
end,  and  extensive  fields  of  grass  beyond,  where  stand 
the  hay-mows  of  last  year,  with  the  hay  cut  away  reg 
ularly  around  their  bases.  All  the  more  distant  por 
tion  of  the  valley  is  lonesome  in  the  extreme  ;  and  on 
the  hither  side  of  the  narrowest  part  the  land  is  uncul 
tivated,  partly  overgrown  with  forest,  partly  used  as 
sheep-pastures,  for  which  purpose  it  is  not  nearly  so 
barren  as  sheep-pastures  usually  are.  On  the  right, 
facing  southward,  rises  Graylock,  all  beshagged  with 
forest,  and  with  headlong  precipices  of  rock  appearing 
among  the  black  pines.  Southward  there  is  a  most 
extensive  view  of  the  valley,  in  which  Saddleback  and 
its  companion  mountains  are  crouched,  —  wide  and 
far,  —  a  broad,  misty  valley,  fenced  in  by  a  mountain 
wall,  and  with  villages  scattered  along  it,  and  miles  of 
forest,  which  appear  but  as  patches  scattered  here  and 
there  upon  the  landscape.  The  descent  from  the  Notch 
southward  is  much  more  abrupt  than  on  the  other  side. 
A  stream  flows  down  through  it ;  and  along  much  of 
its  course  it  has  washed  away  all  the  earth  from  a 
ledge  of  rock,  and  then  formed  a  descending  pave 
ment,  smooth  and  regular,  which  the  scanty  flow  of 
water  scarcely  suffices  to  moisten  at  this  period,  though 
a  heavy  rain,  probably,  would  send  down  a  torrent, 
raging,  roaring,  and  foaming.  I  descended  along  the 
course  of  the  stream,  and  sometimes  on  the  rocky  path 
of  it,  and,  turning  off  towards  the  south  village,  fol 
lowed  a  cattle-path  till  I  came  to  a  cottage. 

A  horse  was  standing  saddled  near  the  door,  but  1 
did  not  see  the  rider.     I  knocked,  and  an  elderly  wo 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  199 

man,  of  very  pleasing  and  intelligent  aspect,  came  &\, 
the  summons,  and  gave  me  directions  how  to  get  to  the 
south  village  through  an  orchard  and  "  across  lots," 
which  would  bring  me  into  the  road  near  the  Quaker 
meeting-house,  with  gravestones  round  it.  While  she 
talked,  a  young  woman  came  into  the  pantry  from  the 
kitchen,  with  a  dirty  little  brat,  whose  squalls  I  had 
heard  all  along ;  the  reason  of  his  outcry  being  that 
his  mother  was  washing  him,  —  a  very  unusual  pro 
cess,  if  I  may  judge  by  his  looks.  I  asked  the  old 
lady  for  some  water,  and  she  gave  me,  I  think,  the 
most  delicious  I  ever  tasted.  These  mountaineers 
ought  certainly  to  be  temperance  people  ;  for  their 
mountain  springs  supply  them  with  a  liquor  of  which 
the  cities  and  the  low  countries  can  have  no  concep 
tion.  Pure,  fresh,  almost  sparkling,  exhilarating, — 
such  water  as  Adam  and  Eve  drank. 

I  passed  the  south  village  on  a  by-road,  without  en 
tering  it,  and  was  taken  up  by  the  stage  from  Pitts- 
field  a  mile  or  two  this  side  of  it.  Platt,  the  driver,  a 
friend  of  mine,  talked  familiarly  about  many  matters, 
intermixing  his  talk  with  remarks  on  his  team  and 
addresses  to  the  beasts  composing  it,  who  were  three 
mares,  and  a  horse  on  the  near  wheel,  —  all  bays. 
The  horse  he  pronounced  "  a  dreadful  nice  horse  to 
go ;  but  if  he  could  shirk  off  the  work  upon  the  oth 
ers,  he  would,"  —  which  unfairness  Platt  corrected  by 
timely  strokes  of  the  whip  whenever  the,  horse's  traces 
were  not  tightened.  One  of  the  mares  wished  to  go 
faster,  hearing  another  horse  tramp  behind  her ;  "  and 
nothing  made  her  so  mad,"  quoth  Platt,  "as  to  be 
held  in  when  she  wanted  to  go."  The  near  leader 
started.  "  Oh  the  little  devil,"  said  he,  "  how  skittish 
she  is !  "  Another  stumbled^  and  Platt  bantered  her 


200  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [183& 

thereupon.  Then  he  told  of  floundering  through  snow 
drifts  in  winter,  and  carrying  the  mail  on  his  back 
four  miles  from  Bennington.  And  thus  we  jogged 
on,  and  got  to  "  mine  inn  "  just  as  the  diTmp.r-hp.il  was 
ringing. 

Pig-drover,  with  two  hundred  pigs.  They  are  much 
more  easily  driven  on  rainy  days  than  on  fair  ones. 
One  of  his  pigs,  a  large  one,  particularly  troublesome 
as  to  running  off  the  road  towards  every  object,  and 
leading  the  drove.  Thirteen  miles  about  a  day's  jour 
ney,  in  the  course  of  which  the  drover  has  to  travel 
about  thirty. 

They  have  a  dog,  who  runs  to  and  fro  indefatigably, 
barking  at  those  who  straggle  on  the  flanks  of  the  line 
of  march,  then  scampering  to  the  other  side  and  bark 
ing  there,  and  sometimes  having  quite  an  affair  of 
barking  and  surly  grunting  with  some  refractory  pig, 
who  has  found  something  to  munch,  and  refuses  to 
quit  it.  The  pigs  are  fed  on  corn  at  their  halts.  The 
drove  has  some  ultimate  market,  and  individuals  are 
peddled  out  on  the  march.  Some  die. 

Merino  sheep  (which  are  much  raised  in  Berkshire) 
are  good  for  hardly  anything  to  eat,  —  a  fair-sized 
quarter  dwindling  down  to  almost  nothing  in  the  pro 
cess  of  roasting. 

The  tavern-keeper  in  Stockbridge,  an  elderly  bach 
elor,  —  a  dusty,  black-dressed,  antiquated  figure,  with 
a  white  neck-cloth  setting  off  a  dim,  yellow  complex 
ion,  looking  like  one  of  the  old  wax-figures  of  minis 
ters  in  a  corner  of  the  New  England  Museum.  He 
did  not  seem  old,  but  like  a  middle-aged  manv  who  had 
been  preserved  in  some  dark  and  cobwebby  corner  foi 
a  great  while.  Pie  is  asthmatic. 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  201 

In  Connecticut,  and  also  sometimes  in  Berkshire, 
the  villages  are  situated  011  the  most  elevated  ground 
that  can  be  found,  so  that  they  are  visible  for  miles 
around.  Litchfield  is  a  remarkable  instance,  occupy 
ing  a  high  plain,  without  the  least  shelter  from  the 
winds,  and  with  almost  as  wide  an  expanse  of  view  as 
from  a  mountain-top.  The  streets  are  very  wide,  — 
two  or  three  hundred  feet,  at  least,  —  with  wide,  greeia 
margins,  and  sometimes  there  is  a  wide  green  space 
between  two  road  tracks.  Nothing  can  be  neater  than 
the  churches  and  houses.  The  graveyard  is  on  the 
slope,  and  at  the  foot  of  a  swell,  filled  with  old  and 
new  gravestones,  some  of  red  freestone,  some  of  gray 
granite,  most  of  them  of  white  marble,  and  one  of  cast- 
iron  with  an  inscription  of  raised  letters.  There  was 
one  of  the  date  of  about  1776,  on  which  was  repre 
sented  the  third-length,  bas-relief  portrait  of  a  gentle 
man  in  a  wig  and  other  costume  of  that  day ;  and  as 
a  framework  about  this  portrait  was  wreathed  a  gar 
land  of  vine-leaves  and  heavy  clusters  of  grapes.  The 
deceased  should  have  been  a  jolly  bottleman  ;  but  the 
epitaph  indicated  nothing  of  the  kind. 

In  a  remote  part  of  the  graveyard,  —  remote  from 
the  main  body  of  dead  people,  —  I  noticed  a  humble, 
mossy  stone,  on  which  1  traced  out  "  To  the  memory 
of  Julia  Africa,  servant  of  Rev."  somebody.  There 
were  also  the  half -obliterated  traces  of  other  graves, 
without  any  monuments,  in  the  vicinity  of  this  one. 
Doubtless  the  slaves  here  mingled  their  dark  clay  with 
the  earth. 

At  Litchfield  there  is  a  doctor  who  undertakes  to 
cure  deformed  people,  —  and  humpbacked,  lame,  and 
otherwise  defective  folk  go  there.  Besides  these,  there 
were  many  ladies  and  others  boarding  there,  for  the 
Benefit  of  the  air,  I  suppose. 


202  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [183& 

At  Canaan,  Connecticut,  before  the  tavern,  there  is 
a  doorstep,  two  or  three  paces  large  in  each  of  its  di 
mensions  ;  and  on  this  is  inscribed  the  date  when  the 
builder  of  the  house  came  to  the  town,  —  namely, 
1731.  The  house  was  built  in  1751.  Then  foUows 
the  age  and  death  of  the  patriarch  (at  over  ninety) 
and  his  wife,  and  the  births  of,  I  think,  eleven  sons 
and  daughters.  It  would  seem  as  if  they  were  buried 
underneath;  and  many  people  take  that  idea.  It  is 
odd  to  put  a  family  record  in  a  spot  where  it  is  sure 
to  be  trampled  underfoot. 

At  Springfield,  a  blind  man,  who  came  in  the  stage, 
—  elderly, — sitting  in  the  reading-room,  and,  as  soon 
as  seated,  feeling  all  around  him  with  his  cane,  so  as 
to  find  out  his  locality,  and  know  where  he  may  spit 
with  safety !  The  cautious  and  scientific  air  with 
which  he  measures  his  distances.  Then  he  sits  still 
and  silent  a  long  while,  —  then  inquires  the  hour,  — 
then  says,  "  I  should  like  to  go  to  bed."  Nobody  of 
the  house  being  near,  he  receives  no  answer,  and  re 
peats  impatiently,  "  I  '11  go  to  bed."  One  would  sup 
pose,  tl?at,  conscious  of  his  dependent  condition,  he 
would  have  learned  a  different  sort  of  manner ;  but 
probably  he  has  lived  where  he  could  command  at 
tention. 

Two  travellers,  eating  bread  and  cheese  of  their  owi 
in  the  bar-room  at  Stockbridge,  and  drinking  watei 
out  of  a  tumbler  borrowed  from  the  landlord.  Eating 
immensely,  and,  when  satisfied,  putting  the  relics  in 
their  trunk,  and  rubbing  down  the  table. 

Sample  ears  of  various  kinds  of  corn  hanging  over 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  203 

the  looking-glass  or  in  the  bars  of  taverns.  Four  ears 
on  a  stalk  (good  ones)  are  considered  a  heavy  har 
vest. 

A  withered,  yellow,  sodden,  dead-alive  looking  wo 
man,  —  an  opium-eater.  A  deaf  man,  with  a  great 
fancy  for  conversation,  so  that  his  interlocutor  is  com- 
pelled  to  halloo  and  bawl  over  the  rumbling  of  the 
coach,  amid  which  he  hears  best.  The  sharp  tones  of 
a  woman's  voice  appear  to  pierce  his  dull  organs  much 
better  than  a  masculine  voice.  The  impossibility  of 
saying  anything  but  commonplace  matters  to  a  deaf 
man,  of  expressing  any  delicacy  of  thought  in  a  raised 
tone,  of  giving  utterance  to  fine  feelings  in  a  bawl. 
This  man's  deafness  seemed  to  have  made  his  mind 
and  feelings  uncommonly  coarse  ;  for,  after  the  opium- 
eater  had  renewed  an  old  acquaintance  with  him,  al 
most  the  first  question  he  asked,  in  his  raised  voice, 
was,  "  Do  you  eat  opium  now  ?  " 

At  Hartford,  the  keeper  of  a  temperance  hotel  read 
ing  a  Hebrew  Bible  in  the  bar  by  means  of  a  lexicon 
and  an  English  version. 

A  negro,  respectably  dressed,  and  well-mounted  on 
horseback,  travelling  on  his  own  hook,  calling  for  oats, 
and  drinking  a  glass  of  brandy-and- water  at  the  bar, 
like  any  other  Christian.  A  young  man  from  Wis 
consin  said,  "  I  wish  I  had  a  thousand  such  fellows  in 
Alabama."  It  made  a  strange  impression  on  me, — 
the  negro  was  really  so  human !  —  and  to  talk  of  own 
ing  a  thousand  like  him ! 

Left  North  Adams  September  llth.  Beached  home 
September  24th,  1838. 


204  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1838. 

October  24th.  —  View  from  a  chamber  of  the  Tre- 
mont  of  the  brick  edifice  opposite,  on  the  other  side 
of  Beacon  Street.  At  one  of  the  lower  windows, 
a  woman  at  work;  at  one  above,  a  lady  hemming  a 
ruff  or  some  such  lady-like  thing.  She  is  pretty, 
young,  and  married;  for  a  little  boy  comes  to  her 
knees,  and  she  parts  his  hair,  and  caresses  him  in  a 
motherly  way.  A  note  on  colored  paper  is  brought 
her ;  and  she  reads  it,  and  puts  it  in  her  bosom.  At 
another  window,  at  some  depth  within  the  apartment, 
a  gentleman  in  a  dressing-gown,  reading,  and  rocking 
in  an  easy-chair,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.  A  rainy  day,  and  peo 
ple  passing  with  umbrellas  disconsolately  between  the 
spectator  and  these  various  scenes  of  indoor  occupation 
and  comfort.  With  this  sketch  might  be  mingled  and 
worked  up  some  story  that  was  going  on  within  the 
chamber  where  the  spectator  was  situated. 

All  the  dead  that  had  ever  been  drowned  in  a  cer 
tain  lake  to  arise. 

The  history  of  a  small  lake  from  the  first,  till  it  was 
drained. 

An  autumnal  feature,  —  boys  had  swept  together 
'  fche  fallen  leaves  from  the  elms  along  the  street  in  one 
huge  pile,  and  had  made  a  hollow,  nest-shaped,  in  this 
pile,  in  which  three  or  four  of  them  lay  curled,  like 
young  birds. 

A  tombstone-maker,  whom  Miss  B y  knew,  used 

to  cut  cherubs  on  the  top  of  the  tombstones,  and  had 
the  art  of  carving  the  cherubs'  faces  in  the  likeness  of 
ihe  deceased. 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  205 

A  child  of  Rev.  E.  P was  threatened  with  to 
tal  blindness.  A  week  after  the  father  had  been  in 
formed  of  this,  the  child  died ;  and,  in  the  mean  while, 
his  feelings  had  become  so  much  the  more  interested 
in  the  child,  from  its  threatened  blindness,  that  it  was 
infinitely  harder  to  give  it  up.  Had  he  not  been 
aware  of  it  till  after  the  child's  death,  it  would  prob 
ably  have  been  a  consolation. 

Singular   character  of  a  gentleman    (H.   H -, 

Esq.)  living  in  retirement  in  Boston,  —  esteemed  a 
man  of  nicest  honor,  and  his  seclusion  attributed  to 
wounded  feelings  on  account  of  the  failure  of  his  firm 
in  business.  Yet  it  was  discovered  that  this  man  had 
been  the  mover  of  intrigues  by  which  men  in  business 
had  been  ruined,  and  their  property  absorbed,  none 
knew  how  or  by  whom ;  love-affairs  had  been  broken 
off,  and  much  other  mischief  done ;  and  for  years  he 
was  not  in  the  least  suspected.  He  died  suddenly, 
soon  after  suspicion  fell  upon  him.  Probably  it  was 
the  love  of  management,  of  having  an  influence  on 
affairs,  that  produced  these  phenomena. 

Character  of  a  man  who,  in  himself  and  his  exter 
nal  circumstances,  shall  be  equally  and  totally  false : 
his  fortune  resting  on  baseless  credit,  —  his  patriotism 
assumed,  —  his  domestic  affections,  his  honor  and  hon 
esty,  all  a  sham.  His  own  misery  in  the  midst  of  it, 
—  it  making  the  whole  universe,  heaven  and  earth 
alike,  an  unsubstantial  mockery  to  him. 

Dr.  Johnson's  penance  in  Uttoxeter  Market.  A 
man  who  does  penance  in  what  might  appear  to  look 
ers-on  the  most  glorious  and  triumphal  circumstance 


206  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [18Sa 

cf  his  life.  Each  circumstance  of  the  career  of  an 
apparently  successful  man  to  be  a  penance  and  tor 
ture  to  him  on  account  of  some  fundamental  error  in 
early  life. 

A  person  to  catch  fire-flies,  and  try  to  kindle  hia 
household  fire  with  them.  It  would  be  symbolical  of 
something. 

Thanksgiving  at  the  Worcester  Lunatic  Asylum. 
A  ball  and  dance  of  the  inmates  in  the  evening,  — 
a  furious  lunatic  dancing  with  the  principal's  wife. 
Thanksgiving  in  an  almshouse  might  make  a  better 
sketch. 

The  house  on  the  eastern  corner  of  North  and  Es 
sex  Streets  [Salem],  supposed  to  have  been  built 
about  1640,  had,  say  sixty  years  later,  a  brick  turret 
erected,  wherein  one  of  the  ancestors  of  the  present 
occupants  used  to  practise  alchemy.  He  was  the  op 
erative  of  a  scientific  person  in  Boston,  the  director. 
There  have  been  other  alchemists  of  old  in  this  town, 
—  one  who  kept  his  fire  burning  seven  weeks,  and 
then  lost  the  elixir  by  letting  it  go  out. 

An  ancient  wineglass  (Miss  Ingersol's).,  long-stalked, 
with  a  small,  cup-like  bowl,  round  which  is  wreathed 
a  branch  of  grape-vine,  with  a  rich  cluster  of  grapes, 
and  leaves  spread  out.  There  is  also  some  kind  of 
a  bird  flying.  The  whole  is  excellently  cut  or  ei> 
graved. 

In  the  Duke  of  Buckingham's  comedy,  "  The 
Chances,"  Don  Frederic  says  of  Don  John  (they  are 


1838.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS'.  107 

two  noble  Spanish  gentlemen),  "  One  bed  contains  us 


A  person,  while  awake  and  in  the  business  of  life, 
to  think  highly  of  another,  and  place  perfect  confi 
dence  in  him,  but  to  be  troubled  with  dreams  in  which 
this  seeming  friend  appears  to  act  the  part  of  a  most 
deadly  enemy.  Finally  it  is  discovered  that  the  dream- 
character  is  the  true  one.  The  explanation  would  be 
—  the  soul's  instinctive  perception. 

Pandora's  box  for  a  child's  story. 
Moonlight  is  sculpture  ;  sunlight  is  painting. 

"  A  person  to  look  back  on  a  long  life  ill-spent,  and 
to  picture  forth  a  beautiful  life  which  he  would  live, 
if  he  could  be  permitted  to  begin  his  life  over  again. 
Finally  to  discover  that  he  had  only  been  dreaming  of 
old  age,  —  that  he  was  really  young,  and  could  live 
Buch  a  life  as  he  had  pictured." 

A  newspaper,  purporting  to  be  published  in  a  fam 
ily,  and  satirizing  the  political  and  general  world  by 
advertisements,  remarks  on  domestic  affairs,  —  adver 
tisement  of  a  lady's  lost  thimble,  etc. 

L.  H .     She  was  unwilling  to  die,  because  she 

had  no  friends  to  meet  her  in  the  other  world.  Her 
little  son  F.  being  very  ill,  on  his  recovery  she  con 
fessed  a  feeling  of  disappointment,  having  supposed 
that  he  would  have  gone  before,  and  welcomed  hai 
into  heaven ! 


208  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1839. 

H.  L.  C heard  from  a  French  Canadian  a  story 

of  a  young  couple  in  Acadie.  On  their  marriage  day, 
all  the  men  of  the  Province  were  summoned  to  assem 
ble  in  the  church  to  hear  a  proclamation.  When  as- 
sembled,  they  were  all  seized  and  shipped  off  to  be 
distributed  through  New  England,  —  among  them  the 
new  bridegroom.  His  bride  set  off  in  search  of  him, 
—  wandered  about  New  England  all  her  lifetime,  and 
at  last,  when  she  was  old,  she  found  her  bridegroom 
on  his  death-bed.  The  shock  was  so  great  that  it 
killed  her  likewise. 

January  4tfA,  1839.  —  When  scattered  clouds  are 
resting  on  the  bosoms  of  hills,  it  seems  as  if  one  might 
climb  into  the  heavenly  region,  earth  being  so  inter 
mixed  with  sky,  and  gradually  transformed  into  it. 

A  stranger,  dying,  is  buried ;  and  after  many  years 
two  strangers  come  in  search  of  his  grave,  and  open 
it. 

The  strange  sensation  of  a  person  who  feels  him 
self  an  object  of  deep  interest,  and  close  observation, 
and  various  construction  of  all  his  actions,  by  another 
person. 

Letters  in  the  shape  of  figures  of  men,  etc.  At  a 
distance,  the  words  composed  by  the  letters  are  alone 
distinguishable.  Close  at  hand,  the  figures  alone  are 
seen,  and  not  distinguished  as  letters.  Thus  things 
may  have  a  positive,  a  relative,  and  a  composite  mean 
ing,  according  to  the  point  of  view. 

"  Passing  along  the  street,  all  muddy  with  puddle^ 


i8S9,]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  209 

and  suddenly  seeing  the  sky  reflected  in  these  puddles 
in  such  a  way  as  quite  to  conceal  the  foulness  of  the 

street." 

A  young  man  in  search  of  happiness,  —  to  be  per 
sonified  by  a  figure  whom  he  expects  to  meet  in  a 
crowd,  and  is  to  be  recognized  by  certain  signs.  All 
these  signs  are  given  by  a  figure  in  various  garbs  and 
actions,  but  he  does  not  recognize  that  this  is  the 
sought-for  person  till  too  late. 

If  cities  were  built  by  the  sound  of  music,  then 
some  edifices  would  appear  to  be  constructed  by  grave, 
solemn  tones,  —  others  to  have  danced  forth  to  light, 
fantastic  airs. 

Familiar  spirits,  according  to  Lilly,  used  to  be  worn 
in  rings,  watches,  sword-hilts.  Thumb-rings  were  set 
with  jewels  of  extraordinary  size. 

A  very  fanciful  person,  when  dead,  to  have  his 
lurial  in  a  cloud. 

"  A  story  there  passeth  of  an  Indian  king  that  sent 
onto  Alexander  a  fair  woman,  fed  with  aconite  and 
other  poisons,  with  this  intent  complexionally  to  de 
stroy  him !  "  —  Sir  T.  Browne. 

Dialogues  of  the  unborn,  like  dialogues  of  the  dead, 
—  or  between  two  young  children. 

A  mortal  symptom  for  a  person  being  to  lose  his 
cwn  aspect  and  to  take  the  family  lineaments,  which 
were  hidden  deep  in  the  healthful  visage.  Perhaps  a 

VOL.   IX.  H 


210  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1840L 

seeker  might  thus  recognize  the  man  he  had  sought* 
after  long  intercourse  with  him  unknowingly. 

Some  moderns  to  build  a  fire  on  Ararat  with  the 
remnants  of  the  ark. 

Two  little  boats  of  cork,  with  a  magnet  in  one  aad 
steel  in  the  other. 

To  have  ice  in  one's  blood. 

To  make  a  story  of  all  strange  and  impossible  things, 
•—  as  the  Salamander,  the  Pho3nix. 

The  semblance  of  a  human  face  to  be  formed  on  the 
side  of  a  mountain,  or  in  the  fracture  of  a  small  stone, 
by  a  lusus  naturae.  The  face  is  an  object  of  curiosity 
for  years  or  centuries,  and  by  and  by  a  boy  is  born, 
whose  features  gradually  assume  the  aspect  of  that 
portrait.  At  some  critical  juncture,  the  resemblance 
is  found  to  be  perfect.  A  prophecy  may  be  con 
nected. 

A  person  to  be  the  death  of  his  beloved  in  trying  to 
raise  her  to  more  than  mortal  perfection  ;  yet  this 
should  be  a  comfort  to  him  for  having  aimed  so  highly 
and  holily. 

1840.  —  A  man,  unknown,  conscious  of  temptation 
to  secret  crimes,  puts  up  a  note  in  church,  desiring  the 
prayers  of  the  congregation  for  one  so  tempted. 

Some  most  secret  thing,  valued  and  honored  be 
tween  levers,  to  be  hung  up  in  public  places,  and 


1840.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  211 

made  the  subject  of  remark  by  the  city,  —  remarks, 
sneers,  and  laughter. 

To  make  a  story  out  of  a  scarecrow,  giving  it  odd 
attributes.  From  different  points  of  view,  it  should 
appear  to  change,  —  now  an  old  man,  now  an  old  wo* 
man,  —  a  gunner,  a  farmer,  or  the  Old  Nick. 

A  ground-sparrow's  nest  in  the  slope  of  a  bank, 
brought  to  view  by  mowing  the  grass,  but  still  shel 
tered  and  comfortably  hidden  by  a  blackberry- vine 
trailing  over  it.  At  first,  four  brown-speckled  eggs, 
—  then  two  little  bare  young  ones,  which,  on  the 
slightest  noise,  lift  their  heads,  and  open  wide  mouths 
for  food,  —  immediately  dropping  their  heads,  after  a 
broad  gape.  The  action  looks  as  if  they  were  making 
a  most  earnest,  agonized  petition.  In  another  egg,  as 
in  a  coffin,  I  could  discern  the  quiet,  death-like  form 
of  the  little  bird.  The  whole  thing  had  something 
awful  and  mysterious  in  it. 

A  coroner's  inquest  on  a  murdered  man,  —  the  gath 
ering  of  the  jury  to  be  described,  and  the  characters 
of  the  members,  —  some  with  secret  guilt  upon  their 
souls. 

To  represent  a  man  as  spending  life  and  the  intens- 
est  labor  in  the  accomplishment  of  some  mechanical 
trifle,  —  as  in  making  a  miniature  coach  to  be  drawn 
by  fleas,  or  a  dinner-service  to  be  put  into  a  cherry 
stone. 

A  bonfire  to  be  made  of  the  gallows  and  of  all  syn> 
bols  of  evil. 


212  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1840. 

The  love  of  posterity  is  a  consequence  of  the  neces 
sity  of  death.  If  a  man  were  sure  of  living  forever 
here,  he  would  not  care  about  his  offspring. 

The  device  of  a  sundial  for  a  monument  over  a 
grave,  with  some  suitable  motto. 

A  man  with  the  right  perception  of  things,  —  a  feel 
ing  within  him  of  what  is  true  and  what  is  false.  It 
might  be  symbolized  by  the  talisman  with  which,  in 
fairy  tales,  an  adventurer  was  enabled  to  distinguish 
enchantments  from  realities. 

A  phantom  of  the  old  royal  governors,  or  some  such 
shadowy  pageant,  on  the  night  of  the  evacuation  of 
Boston  by  the  British. 

taking  my  likeness,  I  said  that  such  changes 

would  come  over  my  face  that  she  would  not  know  me 
when  we  met  again  in  heaven.  "  See  if  I  do  not !  " 
said  she,  smiling.  There  was  the  most  peculiar  and 
beautiful  humor  in  the  point  itself,  and  in  her  manner, 
that  can  be  imagined. 

Little  F.  H used  to  look  into  E 's  mouth 

to  see  where  her  smiles  came  from. 

"  There  is  no  Measure  for  Measure  to  my  affections. 
If  the  earth  fails  me,  I  can  die,  and  go  to  GOD," 
said . 

Selfishness  is  one  of  the  qualities  apt  to  inspire 
love.  This  might  be  thought  out  at  great  length. 


1839.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  213 

EXTRACTS   FROM   HIS   PRIVATE  LETTERS. 

Boston,  July  3(7,  1839.  —  I  do  not  mean  to  imply 
that  I  am  unhappy  or  discontented,  for  this  is  not  the 
case.  My  life  only  is  a  burden  in  the  same  way  that 
it  is  to  every  toilsome  man;  and  mine  is  a  healthy 
weariness,  such  as  needs  only  a  night's  sleep  to  remove 
it.  But  from  henceforth  forever  I  shall  be  entitled  to 
call  the  sons  of  toil  my  brethren,  and  shall  know  how 
to  sympathize  with  them,  seeing  that  I  likewise  have 
risen  at  the  dawn,  and  borne  the  fervor  of  the  midday 
sun,  nor  turned  my  heavy  footsteps  homeward  till 
eventide.  Years  hence,  perhaps,  the  experience  that 
my  heart  is  acquiring  now  will  flow  out  in  truth  and 
wisdom. 

August  27th.  —  I  have  been  stationed  all  day  at 
the  end  of  Long  Wharf,  and  I  rather  think  that  I  had 
the  most  eligible  situation  of  anybody  in  Boston.  I 
was  aware  that  it  must  be  intensely  hot  in  the  midst  of 
the  city ;  but  there  was  only  a  short  space  of  uncom 
fortable  heat  in  my  region,  half-way  towards  the  cen 
tre  of  the  harbor  ;  and  almost  all  the  time  there  was  a 
pure  and  delightful  breeze,  fluttering  and  palpitating, 
sometimes  shyly  kissing  my  brow,  then  dying  away, 
and  then  rushing  upon  me  in  livelier  sport,  so  that 
I  was  fain  to  settle  my  straw  hat  more  tightly  upon 
my  head.  Late  in  the  afternoon,  there  was  a  sunny 
shower,  which  came  down  so  like  a  benediction  that  it 
seemed  ungrateful  to  take  shelter  in  the  cabin  or  to 
put  up  an  umbrella.  Then  there  was  a  rainbow,  or 
a  large  segment  of  one,  so  exceedingly  brilliant  and 
of  such  long  endurance  that  I  almost  fancied  it  was 
stained  into  the  sky,  and  would  continue  there  per- 


214  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1840 

manently.  And  there  were  clouds  floating  all  about, 
—  great  clouds  and  small,  of  all  glorious  and  lovely 
hues  (save  that  imperial  crimson  which  was  revealed 
to  our  united  gaze),  —  so  glorious,  indeed,  and  so 
lovely,  that  I  had  a  fantasy  of  heaven's  being  broken 
into  fleecy  fragments  and  dispersed  through  space, 
with  its  blest  inhabitants  dwelling  blissfully  upon 
those  scattered  islands. 

February  1th,  1840.  —  What  beautiful  weather 
this  is !  —  beautiful,  at  least,  so  far  as  sun,  sky,  and 
atmosphere  are  concerned,  though  a  poor,  wingless 
biped  is  sometimes  constrained  to  wish  that  he  coidd 
raise  himself  a  little  above  the  earth.  How  much  mud 
and  mire,  how  many  pools  of  unclean  water,  how  many 
slippery  footsteps,  and  perchance  heavy  tumbles,  might 
be  avoided,  if  we  could  tread  but  six  inches  above  the 
crust  of  this  world.  Physically  we  cannot  do  this  ; 
our  bodies  cannot ;  but  it  seems  to  me  that  our  hearts 
and  minds  may  keep  themselves  above  moral  mud- 
puddles  and  other  discomforts  of  the  soul's  pathway. 

February  \\th.  —  I  have  been  measuring  coal  all 
day,  on  board  of  a  black  little  British  schooner,  in  a 
dismal  dock  at  the  north  end  of  the  city.  Most  of  the 
time  I  paced  the  deck  to  keep  myself  warm  ;  for  the 
wind  (northeast,  I  believe)  blew  up  through  the  dock, 
as  if  it  had  been  the  pipe  of  a  pair  of  bellows.  The 
vessel  lying  deep  between  two  wharves,  there  was  no 
more  delightful  prospect,  on  the  right  hand  and  on 
the  left,  than  the  posts  and  timbers,  half  immersed  in 
the  water,  and  covered  with  ice,  which  the  rising  and 
falling  of  successive  tides  had  left  upon  them,  so  that 
they  looked  like  immense  icicles.  Across  the  water, 


1840.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  215 

however,  not  more  than  half  a  mile  off,  appeared  the 
Bunker  Hill  Monument ;  and,  what  interested  me  con 
siderably  more,  a  church-steeple,  with  the  dial  of  a 
clock  upon  it,  whereby  I  was  enabled  to  measure  the 
march  of  the  weary  hours.  Sometimes  I  descended 
into  the  dirty  little  cabin  of  the  schooner,  and  warmed 
myself  by  a  red-hot  stove,  among  biscuit-barrels,  pots 
and  kettles,  sea-chests,  and  innumerable  lumber  of  all 
sorts,  —  my  olfactories,  meanwhile,  being  greatly  re 
freshed  by  the  odor  of  a  pipe,  which  the  captain,  or 
some  one  of  his  crew,  was  smoking.  But  at  last  came 
the  sunset,  with  delicate  clouds,  and  a  purple  light 
upon  the  islands ;  and  I  blessed  it,  because  it  was  the 
signal  of  my  release. 

February  VLih.  —  All  day  long  again  have  I  been 
engaged  in  a  very  black  business,  —  as  black  as  a 
coal ;  and,  though  my  face  and  hands  have  undergone 
a  thorough  purification,  I  feel  not  altogether  fit  to  hold 
communion  with  doves.  Methinks  my  profession  is 
somewhat  akin  to  that  of  a  chimney-sweeper ;  but  the 
latter  has  the  advantage  over  me,  because,  after  climb 
ing  up  through  the  darksome  flue  of  the  chimney,  he 
emerges  into  the  midst  of  the  golden  air,  and  sings 
out  his  melodies  far  over  the  heads  of  the  whole  tribe 
of  weary  earth-plodders.  My  toil  to-day  has  been  cold 
and  dull  enough  ;  nevertheless,  I  was  neither  cold  nor 
dull. 

March  15^.  —  I  pray  that  in  one  year  more  I  may 
find  some  way  of  escaping  from  this  unblest  Custom 
House ;  for  it  is  a  very  grievous  thraldom.  I  do  d<&- 
test  all  offices,  —  all,  at  least,  that  are  held  on  a  polit 
ical  tenure.  And  I  want  nothing  to  do  with  politir 


216  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1840. 

cians.  Their  hearts  wither  away  and  die  out  of  their 
bodies.  Their  consciences  are  turned  to  india-rubber, 
or  to  some  substance  as  black  as  that,  and  which  wiU 
stretch  as  much.  One  thing,  if  no  more,  I  have  gained 
by  my  custom  house  experience,  —  to  know  a  politi 
cian.  It  is  a  knowledge  which  no  previous  thought 
or  power  of  sympathy  could  have  taught  me,  because 
the  animal,  or  the  machine  rather,  is  not  in  nature. 

March  23c£.  —  I  do  think  that  it  is  the  doom  laid 
upon  me,  of  murdering  so  many  of  the  brightest  hours 
of  the  day  at  the  Custom  House,  that  makes  such 
havoc  with  my  wits,  for  here  I  am  again  trying  to 
write  worthily,  .  .  .  yet  with  a  sense  as  if  all  the 
noblest  part  of  man  had  been  left  out  of  my  composi 
tion,  or  had  decayed  out  of  it  since  my  nature  was 
given  to  my  own  keeping.  .  .  .  Never  comes  any  bird 
of  Paradise  into  that  dismal  region.  A  salt  or  even 
a  coal  ship  is  ten  million  times  preferable  ;  for  there 
the  sky  is  above  me,  and  the  fresh  breeze  around  me, 
and  my  thoughts,  having  hardly  anything  to  do  with 
my  occupation,  are  as  free  as  air. 

Nevertheless,  you  are  not  to  fancy  that  the  above 
paragraph  gives  a  correct  idea  of  my  mental  and 
spiritual  state.  ...  It  is  only  once  in  a  while  that  the 
image  and  desire  of  a  better  and  happier  life  makes 
me  feel  the  iron  of  my  chain ;  for,  after  all,  a  human 
spirit  may  find  no  insufficiency  of  food  fit  for  it,  even 
in  the  Custom  House.  And,  with  such  materials  as 
these,  I  do  think  and  feel  and  learn  things  that  are 
worth  knowing,  and  which  I  should  not  know  unless 
I  had  learned  them  there,  so  that  the  present  portion 
of  my  life  shall  not  be  quite  left  out  of  the  sum  of 
my  real  existence.  .  ,  .  It  is  good  for  me,  on  many 


1840.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  217 

accounts,  that  my  life  has  had  this  passage  in  it.  1 
know  much  more  than  I  did  a  year  ago.  I  have  a 
stronger  sense  of  power  to  act  as  a  man  among  men. 
I  have  gained  worldly  wisdom,  and  wisdom  also  that 
is  not  altogether  of  this  world.  And,  when  I  quit  this 
ear  tidy  cavern  where  I  am  now  buried,  nothing  will 
cling  to  me  that  ought  to  be  left  behind.  Men  will 
not  perceive,  I  trust,  by  my  look,  or  the  tenor  of  my 
thoughts  and  feelings,  that  I  have  been  a  custom  house 
officer. 

April  7th.  —  It  appears  to  me  to  have  been  the 
most  uncomfortable  day  that  ever  was  inflicted  on  poor 
mortals.  .  .  .  Besides  the  bleak,  unkindly  air,  I  have 
been  plagued  by  two  sets  of  coal  -  shovellers  at  the 
same  time,  and  have  been  obliged  to  keep  two  sepa 
rate  tallies  simultaneously.  But  I  was  conscious  that 
all  this  was  merely  a  vision  and  a  fantasy,  and  that, 
in  reality,  I  was  not  half  frozen  by  the  bitter  blast, 
nor  tormented  by  those  grimy  coal-heavers,  but  that  I 
was  basking  quietly  in  the  sunshine  of  eternity.  .  .  . 
Any  sort  of  bodily  and  earthly  torment  may  serve  to 
make  us  sensible  that  we  have  a  soul  that  is  not  with 
in  the  jurisdiction  of  such  shadowy  demons,  —  it  sep 
arates  the  immortal  within  us  from  the  mortal.  But 
the  wind  has  blown  my  brains  into  such  confusion 
that  I  cannot  philosophize  now. 

April  19th.  — ...  What  a  beautiful  day  was  yes 
terday  !  My  spirit  rebelled  against  being  confined 
in  my  darksome  dungeon  at  the  Custom  House.  It 
seemed  a  sin,  —  a  murder  of  the  joyful  young  day,  — 
a  quenching  of  the  sunshine.  Nevertheless,  there  I 
was  kept  a  prisoner  till  it  was  too  late  to  fling  myself 


218  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1840. 

)n  a  gentle  wind,  and  be  blown  away  into  the  country. 
.  .  .  When  I  shall  be  again  free,  I  will  enjoy  all 
things  with  the  fresh  simplicity  of  a  child  of  five  years 
old.  I  shall  grow  young  again,  made  all  over  anew. 
I  will  go  forth  and  stand  in  a  summer  shower,  and  all 
the  worldly  dust  that  has  collected  on  me  shall  be 
washed  away  at  once,  and  my  heart  will  be  like  a  bank 
of  fresh  flowers  for  the  weary  to  rest  upon.  .  .  . 

6  P.  M.  —  I  went  out  to  walk  about  an  hour  ago, 
and  found  it  very  pleasant,  though  there  was  a  some* 
what  cool  wind.  I  went  round  and  across  the  Com 
mon,  and  stood  on  the  highest  point  of  it,  where  I 
could  see  miles  and  miles  into  the  country.  Blessed 
be  God  for  this  green  tract,  and  the  view  which  it  af 
fords,  whereby  we  poor  citizens  may  be  put  in  mind, 
sometimes,  that  all  his  earth  is  not  composed  of  blocks 
of  brick  houses,  and  of  stone  or  wooden  pavements. 
Blessed  be  God  for  the  sky,  too,  though  the  smoke  of 
the  city  may  somewhat  change  its  aspect,  —  but  still  it 
is  better  than  if  each  street  were  covered  over  with  a 
roof.  There  were  a  good  many  people  walking  on  the 
mall,  —  mechanics  apparently,  and  shopkeepers'  clerks  j 
with  their  wives ;  and  boys  were  rolling  on  the  grass, 
and  I  would  have  liked  to  lie  down  and  roll  too. 

April  3Qth.  —  ...  I  arose  this  morning  feeling 
more  elastic  than  I  have  throughout  the  winter ;  for 
the  breathing  of  the  ocean  air  has  wrought  a  very 
beneficial  effect.  .  .  .  What  a  beautiful,  most  beauti 
ful  afternoon  this  has  been !  It  was  a  real  happiness 
to  live.  If  I  had  been  merely  a  vegetable,  —  a  haw. 
thorn-bush,  for  instance,  —  I  must  have  been  happy 
in  such  an  air  and  sunshine  ;  but,  having  a  mind  anc? 
a  soul,  ...  I  enjoyed  somewhat  more  than  mere  veg» 


1840.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  219 

stable  happiness.  .  .  .  The  footsteps  of  May  can  be 
traced  upon  the  islands  in  the  harbor,  and  1  have  been 
watching  the  tints  of  green  upon  them  gradually  deep 
ening,  till  now  they  are  almost  as  beautiful  as  they  ever 
can  be. 


May  19^A.  —  ...  Lights  and  shadows  are  continu- 
ally  flitting  across  my  inward  sky,  and  I  know  nei 
ther  whence  they  come  nor  whither  they  go;  nor  do 
I  inquire  too  closely  into  them.  It  is  dangerous  to 
look  too  minutely  into  such  phenomena.  It  is  apt  to 
create  a  substance  where  at  first  there  was  a  mere 
shadow.  ...  If  at  any  time  there  should  seem  to  be 
an  expression  unintelligible  from  one  soul  to  another, 
it  is  best  not  to  strive  to  interpret  it  in  earthly  lan 
guage,  but  wait  for  the  soul  to  make  itself  understood  ; 
and,  were  we  to  wait  a  thousand  years,  we  need  deem 
it  no  more  time  than  we  can  spare.  ...  It  is  not  that 
I  have  any  love  of  mystery,  but  because  I  abhor  it,  and 
because  I  have  often  felt  that  words  may  be  a  thick 
and  darksome  veil  of  mystery  between  the  soul  and 
the  truth  which  it  seeks.  Wretched  were  we,  indeed, 
if  we  had  no  better  means  of  communicating  ourselves, 
no  fairer  garb  in  which  to  array  our  essential  being, 
than  these  poor  rags  and  tatters  of  Babel.  Yet  words 
are  not  without  their  use  even  for  purposes  of  expla 
nation,  —  but  merely  for  explaining  outward  acts  and 
all  sorts  of  external  things,  leaving  the  soul's  life  and 
action  to  explain  itself  in  its  own  way. 

What  a  misty  disquisition  I  have  scribbled  !  I 
would  not  read  it  over  for  sixpence. 

May  29^.  —  Rejoice  with  me,  for  I  am  free  from 
a  load  of  coal  which  has  been  pressing  upon  my  shout 


220  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1840. 

ders  throughout  all  the  hot  weather.  I  am  convinced 
that  Christian's  burden  consisted  of  coal ;  and  no  won 
der  he  felt  so  much  relieved,  when  it  fell  off  and  rolled 
into  the  sepulchre.  His  load,  however,  at  the  utmost, 
could  not  have  been  more  than  a  few  bushels,  whereas 
mine  was  exactly  one  hundred  and  thirty  -  five  chal 
drons  and  seven  tubs. 

May  30^.  — ...  On  board  my  salt  -  vessels  and 
colliers  there  are  many  things  happening,  many  pic 
tures  which,  in  future  years,  when  I  am  again  busy  at 
the  loom  of  fiction,  I  could  weave  in  ;  but  my  fancy  is 
rendered  so  torpid  by  my  ungenial  way  of  life  that  I 
cannot  sketch  off  the  scenes  and  portraits  that  inter 
est  me,  and  I  am  forced  to  trust  them  to  my  memory, 
with  the  hope  of  recalling  them  at  some  more  favora 
ble  period.  For  these  three  or  four  days  I  have  been 
observing  a  little  Mediterranean  boy  from  Malaga,  not 
more  than  ten  or  eleven  years  old,  but  who  is  already 
a  citizen  of  the  world,  and  seems  to  be  just  as  gay 
and  contented  on  the  deck  of  a  Yankee  coal-vessel  as 
he  could  be  while  playing  beside  his  mother's  door.  It 
is  really  touching  to  see  how  free  and  happy  he  is,  — 
how  the  little  fellow  takes  the  whole  wide  world  for 
his  home,  and  all  mankind  for  his  family.  He  talks 
Spanish,  —  at  least  that  is  his  native  tongue  ;  but  he 
is  also  very  intelligible  in  English,  and  perhaps  he 
likewise  has  smatterings  of  the  speech  of  other  coun 
tries,  whither  the  winds  may  have  wafted  this  little 
sea-bird.  He  is  a  Catholic  ;  and  yesterday  being  Fri 
day  he  caught  some  fish  and  fried  them  for  his  dinner 
in  sweet-oil,  and  really  they  looked  so  delicate  that  I 
almost  wished  he  would  invite  me  to  partake.  Everv 
once  in  a  while  he  undresses  himself  and  leaps  over 


1840.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  221 

board,  plunging  down  beneath  the  waves  as  if  the  sea 
were  as  native  to  him  as  the  earth.  Then  he  runs  up 
the  rigging  of  the  vessel  as  if  he  meant  to  fly  away 
through  the  air.  I  must  remember  this  little  boy,  and 
perhaps  I  may  make  something  more  beautiful  of  him 
than  these  rough  and  imperfect  touches  would  promise. 

June  11th.  — .  .  .  I  could  wish  that  the  east-wind 
would  blow  every  day  from  ten  o'clock  till  five ;  for 
there  is  great  refreshment  in  it  to  us  poor  mortals  that 
toil  beneath  the  sun.  We  must  not  think  too  unkindly 
even  of  the  east-wind.  It  is  not,  perhaps,  a  wind  to 
be  loved,  even  in  its  benignest  moods ;  but  there  are 
seasons  when  I  delight  to  feel  its  breath  upon  my 
cheek,  though  it  be  never  advisable  to  throw  open  my 
bosom  and  take  it  into  my  heart,  as  I  would  its  gentle 
sisters  of  the  south  and  west.  To-day,  if  I  had  been 
on  the  wharves,  the  slight  chill  of  an  east-wind  would 
have  been  a  blessing,  like  the  chill  of  death  to  a  world- 
weary  man. 

.  .  .  But  this  has  been  one  of  the  idlest  days  that  I 
ever  spent  in  Boston.  ...  In  the  morning,  soon  af 
ter  breakfast,  I  went  to  the  Athenaeum  gallery,  and, 
during  the  hour  or  two  that  I  stayed,  not  a  single  vis 
itor  came  in.  Some  people  were  putting  up  paintings 
in  one  division  of  the  room ;  but  I  had  the  other  all  to 
myself.  There  are  two  pictures  there  by  our  friend 
Sarah  Clarke,  —  scenes  in  Kentucky. 

From  the  picture-gallery  I  went  to  the  reading- 
rooms  o'f  the  Athen^um,  and  there  read  the  maga 
zines  till  nearly  twelve  ;  thence  to  the  Custom  House, 
and  soon  afterwards  to  dinner  with  Colonel  Hall ;  then 
back  to  the  Custom  House,  but  only  for  a  little  while, 
There  was  nothing  in  the  world  to  do,  and  so  at  two 


222  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [184<X 

o'clock  I  came  home  and  lay  down,  with  the  '*  Faerie 
Queene  "  in  my  hand. 


August  21s£.  —  Last  night  I  slept  like  a  child  of 
five  years  old,  and  had  no  dreams  at  all,  —  unless  just 
before  it  was  time  to  rise,  and  I  have  forgotten  what 
those  dreams  were.  After  I  was  fairly  awake  this 
morning,  I  felt  very  bright  and  airy,  and  was  glad 
that  I  had  been  compelled  to  snatch  two  additional 
hours  of  existence  from  annihilation.  The  sun's  disk 
was  but  half  above  the  ocean's  verge  when  I  ascended 
the  ship's  side.  These  early  morning  hours  are  very 
lightsome  and  quiet.  Almost  the  whole  day  I  have 
been  in  the  shade,  reclining  on  a  pile  of  sails,  so  that 
the  life  and  spirit  are  not  entirely  worn  out  of  me. 
.  .  .  The  wind  has  been  east  this  afternoon,  —  per 
haps  in  the  forenoon,  too,  —  and  I  could  not  help 
feeling  refreshed,  when  the  gentle  chill  of  its  breath 
stole  over  my  cheek.  I  would  fain  abominate  the 
east-wind,  .  .  .  but  it  persists  in  doing  me  kindly  of 
fices  now  and  then.  What  a  perverse  wind  it  is  !  Its 
refreshment  is  but  another  mode  of  torment. 

Salem,  Oct.  4.th.  Union  Street  [Family  Man" 
sion]  .  —  ...  Here  I  sit  in  my  old  accustomed  cham 
ber,  where  I  used  to  sit  in  days  gone  by.  .  .  .  Here 
I  have  written  many  tales,  —  many  that  have  been 
burned  to  ashes,  many  that  doubtless  deserved  the 
Bame  fate.  This  claims  to  be  called  a  haunted  cham 
ber,  for  thousands  upon  thousands  of  visions  have  ap 
peared  to  me  in  it  ;  and  some  few  of  them  have  be 
come  visible  to  the  world.  If  ever  I  should  have  a 
biographer,  he  ought  to  make  great  mention  of  this 
chamber  in  my  memoirs,  because  so  much  of  my  lonely 


1840.1  AMERICAN   NOTE-BOOKS.  223 

youth  was  wasted  here,  and  here  my  mind  and  char- 
ficter  were  formed ;  and  here  I  have  been  glad  and 
hopeful,  and  here  I  have  been  despondent.  And  here 
I  sat  a  long,  long  time,  waiting  patiently  for  the  world 
to  know  me,  and  sometimes  wondering  why  it  did  not 
know  me  sooner,  or  whether  it  would  ever  know  me 
at  all,  — at  least,  till  I  were  in  my  grave.  And  some 
times  it  seemed  as  if  I  were  already  in  the  grave,  with 
only  life  enough  to  be  chilled  and  benumbed.  But 
oftener  I  was  happy,  —  at  least,  as  happy  as  I  then 
knew  how  to  be,  or  was  aware  of  the  possibility  of  be 
ing.  By  and  by,  the  world  found  me  out  in  my  lonely 
chamber,  and  called  me  forth,  —  not,  indeed,  with  a 
loud  roar  of  acclamation,  but  rather  with  a  still,  small 
voice,  —  and  forth  I  went,  but  found  nothing  in  the 
world  that  I  thought  preferable  to  my  old  solitude  till 
now.  .  .  .  And  now  I  begin  to  understand  why  I  was 
imprisoned  so  many  years  in  this  lonely  chamber,  and 
why  I  could  never  break  through  the  viewless  bolts  and 
bars ;  for  if  I  had  sooner  made  my  escape  into  the 
world,  I  should  have  grown  hard  and  rough,  and  been 
covered  with  earthly  dust,  and  my  heart  might  have 
become  callous  by  rude  encounters  with  the  multitude. 
.  ,  .  But  living  in  solitude  till  the  fulness  of  time  was 
come,  I  still  kept  the  dew  of  my  youth  and  the  fresh 
ness  of  my  heart.  ...  I  used  to  think  I  could  im* 
agine  all  passions,  all  feelings,  and  states  of  the  heart 
and  mind ;  but  how  little  did  I  know !  .  .  .  Indeed, 
we  are  but  shadows ;  we  are  not  endowed  with  real 
life,  and  all  that  seems  most  real  about  us  is  but  the 
thinnest  substance  of  a  dream,  —  till  the  heart  be 
touched.  That  touch  creates  us,  —  then  we  begin  to 
be,  —  thereby  we  are  beings  of  reality  and  inheritors 
,pf  eternity.  ,  .  . 


224  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1845X 

When  we  shall  be  endowed  with  our  spiritual  bod* 
ies,  I  think  that  they  will  be  so  constituted  that  we 
may  send  thoughts  and  feelings  any  distance  in  no 
time  at  all,  and  transfuse  them  warm  and  fresh  into 
the  consciousness  of  those  whom  we  love.  .  .  .  But. 
after  all,  perhaps  it  is  not  wise  to  intermix  fantastic 
ideas  with  the  reality  of  affection.  Let  us  content  our 
selves  to  be  earthly  creatures,  and  hold  communion  of 
spirit  in  such  modes  as  are  ordained  to  us.  .  .  . 

I  was  not  at  the  end  of  Long  Wharf  to-day,  but  in 
a  distant  region,  —  my  authority  having  been  put  in 
requisition  to  quell  a  rebellion  of  the  captain  and 
"  gang  "  of  shovellers  aboard  a  coal- vessel.  I  would 
you  could  have  beheld  the  awful  sternness  of  my  vis 
age  and  demeanor  in  the  execution  of  this  momentous 
duty.  Well,  —  I  have  conquered  the  rebels,  and  pro 
claimed  an  amnesty  ;  so  to-morrow  I  shall  return  to 
that  paradise  of  measurers,  the  end  of  Long  Wharf,  — 
not  to  my  former  salt-ship,  she  being  now  discharged, 
but  to  another,  which  will  probably  employ  me  well- 
nigh  a  fortnight  longer.  .  .  .  Salt  is  white  and  pure, 
—  there  is  something  holy  in  salt.  .  .  . 

I  have  observed  that  butterflies  —  very  broad-winged 
and  magnificent  butterflies  —  frequently  come  on  board 
of  the  salt-ship,  where  I  am  at  work.  What  have 
these  bright  strangers  to  do  on  Long  Wharf,  where 
there  are  no  flowers  nor  any  green  thing,  —  nothing 
but  brick  storehouses,  stone  piers,  black  ships,  and  the 
bustle  of  toilsome  men,  who  neither  look  up  to  the 
blue  sky,  nor  take  note  of  these  wandering  gems  ol 
the  air  ?  I  cannot  account  for  them,  unless  they  arc 
the  lovely  fantasies  of  the  mind. 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  225 

November.  —  .  .  .  How  delightfully  long  the  even 
ings  are  now!  I  do  not  get  intolerably  tired  any 
longer,  and  my  thoughts  sometimes  wander  back  to 
Literature,  and  I  have  momentary  impulses  to  write 
stories.  But  this  will  not  be  at  present.  The  utmost 
that  I  can  hope  to  do  will  be  to  portray  some  of  the 
characteristics  of  the  life  which  I  am  now  living,  and 
of  the  people  with  whom  I  am  brought  into  contact, 
for  future  use.  .  .  .  The  days  are  cold  now,  the  air 
eager  and  nipping,  yet  it  suits  my  health  amazingly. 
I  feel  as  if  I  could  run  a  hundred  miles  at  a  stretch, 
and  jump  over  all  the  houses  that  happen  to  be  in  my 
way.  .  .  . 

I  have  never  had  the  good  luck  to  profit  much,  01 
indeed  any,  by  attending  lectures,  so  that  I  think  the 
ticket  had  better  be  bestowed  on  somebody  who  can 

listen  to  Mr. more  worthily.  My  evenings  are 

very  precious  to  me,  and  some  of  them  are  unavoid 
ably  thrown  away  in  paying  or  receiving  visits,  or  in 
writing  letters  of  business,  and  therefore  I  prize  the 
rest  as  if  the  sands  of  the  hour-glass  were  gold  or  dia 
mond  dust. 

I  was  invited  to  dine  at  Mr.  Bancroft's  yesterday, 
with  Miss  Margaret  Fuller ;  but  Providence  had  given 
me  some  business  to  do,  for  which  I  was  very  thankful. 

Is  not  this  a  beautiful  morning?  The  sun  shines 
into  my  soul. 

April  1841.  —  ...  I  have  been  busy  all  day,  from 
early  breakfast-time  till  late  in  the  afternoon ;  and  old 
Father  Time  has  gone  onward  somewhat  less  heavily 
than  is  his  wont  when  I  am  imprisoned  within  the 
of  the  Custom  House.  It  has  been  a  brisk, 

VOL.   IX.  16 


226  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841 

breezy  day,  an  effervescent  atmosphere,  and  I  have  en 
joyed  it  in  all  its  freshness,  —  breathing  air  which  had 
not  been  breathed  in  advance  by  the  hundred  thou 
sand  pairs  of  lungs  which  have  common  and  invisible 
property  in  the  atmosphere  of  this  great  city.  My 
breath  had  never  belonged  to  anybody  but  ine<>  It 
came  fresh  from  the  wilderness  of  ocean.  ...  It  was 
exhilarating  to  see  the  vessels,  how  they  bounded  over 
the  waves,  while  a  sheet  of  foam  broke  out  around 
them.  I  found  a  good  deal  of  enjoyment,  too,  in  the 
busy  scene  around  me;  for  several  vessels  were  dis 
gorging  themselves  (what  an  unseemly  figure  is  this, 
—  "  disgorge,"  quotha,  as  if  the  vessel  were  sick)  on 
the  wharf,  and  everybody  seemed  to  be  working  with 
might  and  main.  It  pleased  me  to  think  that  I  also 
had  a  part  to  act  in  the  material  and  tangible  busi 
ness  of  this  life,  and  that  a  portion  of  all  this  industry 
could  not  have  gone  on  without  my  presence.  Never 
theless,  I  must  not  pride  myself  too  much  on  my  activ 
ity  and  utilitarianism.  I  shall,  doubtless,  soon  bewail 
myself  at  being  compelled  to  earn  my  bread  by  taking 
some  little  share  in  the  toils  of  mortal  men.  .  .  . 

Articulate  words  are  a  harsh  clamor  and  dissonance. 
When  man  arrives  at  his  highest  perfection,  he  will 
again  be  dumb !  for  I  suppose  he  was  dumb  at  the- 
Creation,  and  must  go  round  an  entire  circle  in  order 
to  return  to  that  blessed  state. 

Brook  Farm,  Oak  Hill,  April  13th,  1841.  —  .  .  . 
Here  I  am  in  a  polar  Paradise !  I  know  not  how 
to  interpret  this  aspect  of  nature,  —  whether  it  be  of 
good  or  evil  omen  to  our  enterprise.  But  I  reflect 
that  the  Plymouth  pilgrims  arrived  in  the  midst  ol 


184i.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  227 

storm,  and  stepped  ashore  upon  mountain  snow-drifts ; 
and,  nevertheless,  they  prospered,  and  became  a  great 
people,  —  and  doubtless  it  will  be  the  same  with  us. 
I  laud  my  stars,  however,  that  you  will  not  have  your 
first  impressions  of  (perhaps)  our  future  home  from 
such  a  day  as  this.  .  .  .  Through  faith,  I  persist  IB 
believing  that  Spring  and  Summer  will  come  in  their 
due  season ;  but  the  unregenerated  man  shivers  with 
in  me,  and  suggests  a  doubt  whether  I  may  not  have 
wandered  within  the  precincts  of  the  Arctic  Circle, 
and  chosen  my  heritage  among  everlasting  snows.  .  .  . 
Provide  yourself  with  a  good  stock  of  furs,  and,  if  you 
can  obtain  the  skin  of  a  polar  bear,  you  will  find  it  a 
very  suitable  summer  dress  for  this  region.  .  .  . 

I  have  not  yet  taken  my  first  lesson  in  agriculture, 
except  that  I  went  to  see  our  cows  foddered,  yesterday 
afternoon.  We  have  eight  of  our  own ;  and  the  num 
ber  is  now  increased  by  a  transcendental  heifer  belong 
ing  to  Miss  Margaret  Fuller.  She  is  very  fractious,  I 
believe,  and  apt  to  kick  over  the  milk-pail.  ...  I  in 
tend  to  convert  myself  into  a  milkmaid  this  evening, 
but  I  pray  Heaven  that  Mr.  Ripley  may  be  moved  to 
assign  me  the  kindliest  cow  in  the  herd,  otherwise  I 
shall  perform  my  duty  with  fear  and  trembling. 

I  like  my  brethren  in  affliction  very  well ;  and, 
could  you  see  us  sitting  round  our  table  at  meal-times, 
before  the  great  kitchen  fire,  you  would  call  it  a  cheer 
ful  sight.  Mrs.  B is  a  most  comfortable  woman 

to  behold.  She  looks  as  if  her  ample  person  were 
stuffed  full  of  tenderness,  • —  indeed,  as  if  she  were  all 
one  great,  kind  heart. 


April  14zA,  10  A.  M.  — • .  .  .  I  did  not  milk  the 


228  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841. 

cows  last  night,  because  Mr.  Ripley  was  afraid  to 
trust  them  to  iny  hands,  or  me  to  their  horns,  I  know 
not  which.  But  this  morning  I  have  done  wonders. 
Before  breakfast,  I  went  out  to  the  barn  and  began  to 
chop  hay  for  the  cattle,  and  with  such  "  righteous  ve 
hemence,"  as  Mr.  Ripley  says,  did  I  labor,  that  in  the 
space  of  ten  minutes  I  broke  the  machine.  Then  I 
brought  wood  and  replenished  the  fires  ;  and  finally 
went  down  to  breakfast,  and  ate  up  a  huge  mound  of 
buckwheat  cakes.  After  breakfast,  Mr.  Ripley  put 
a  four-pronged  instrument  into  my  hands,  which  he 
gave  me  to  understand  was  called  a  pitchfork  ;  and 
he  and  Mr.  Farley  being  armed  with  similar  weapons, 
we  all  three  commenced  a  gallant  attack  upon  a  heap 
of  manure.  This  office  being  concluded,  and  I  having 
purified  myself,  I  sit  down  to  finish  this  letter.  .  .  . 

Miss  Fuller's  cow  hooks  the  other  cows,  and  has 
made  herself  ruler  of  the  herd,  and  behaves  in  a  very 
tyrannical  manner.  ...  I  shall  make  an  excellent 
husbandman,  —  I  feel  the  original  Adam  reviving 
within  me. 

April  ~L6th.  — .  .  .  Since  I  last  wrote,  there  haL 
been  an  addition  to  our  community  of  four  gentlemen 
in  sables,  who  promise  to  be  among  our  most  useful 
and  respectable  members.  They  arrived  yesterday 
about  noon.  Mr.  Ripley  had  proposed  to  them  to  join 
us,  no  longer  ago  than  that  very  morning.  I  had 
some  conversation  with  them  in  the  afternoon,  and 
was  glad  to  hear  them  express  much  satisfaction  witl? 
their  new  abode  and  all  the  arrangements.  They  dc 
not  appear  to  be  very  communicative,  however,  —  01 
perhaps  it  may  be  merely  an  external  reserve,  like  mj 
Dwn,  to  shield  their  delicacy.  Several  of  their  proini 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  229 

nent  characteristics,  as  well  as  their  black  attire,  lead 
me  to  believe  that  they  are  members  of  the  clerical 
profession  ;  but  I  have  not  yet  ascertained  from  their 
own  lips  what  has  been  the  nature  of  their  past  lives, 
I  trust  to  have  much  pleasure  in  their  society,  and, 
sooner  or  later,  that  we  shall  all  of  us  derive  great 
strength  from  our  intercourse  with  them.  I  cannot 
too  highly  applaud  the  readiness  with  which  these  four 
gentlemen  in  black  have  thrown  aside  all  the  fopper 
ies  and  flummeries  which  have  their  origin  in  a  false 
.state  of  society.  When  I  last  saw  them,  they  looked 
as  heroically  regardless  of  the  stains  and  soils  inci 
dent  to  our  profession  as  I  did  when  I  emerged  from 
the  gold-mine.  .  .  . 

I  have  milked  a  cow !!!...  The  herd  has  re 
belled  against  the  usurpation  of  Miss  Fuller's  heifer ; 
and,  whenever  they  are  turned  out  of  the  barn,  she  is 
compelled  to  take  refuge  under  our  protection.  So 
much  did  she  impede  my  labors  by  keeping  close  to 
me,  that  I  found  it  necessary  to  give  her  two  or  three 
gentle  pats  with  a  shovel ;  but  still  she  preferred  to 
trust  herself  to  my  tender  mercies,  rather  than  ven 
ture  among  the  horns  of  the  herd.  She  is  not  an  ami 
able  cow ;  but  she  has  a  very  intelligent  face,  and 
seems  to  be  of  a  reflective  cast  of  character.  I  doubt 
not  that  she  will  soon  perceive  the  expediency  of  be 
ing  on  good  terms  with  the  rest  of  the  sisterhood. 

I  have  not  yet  been  twenty  yards  from  our  house 
and  barn ;  but  I  begin  to  perceive  that  this  is  a  beau 
tiful  place.  The  scenery  is  of  a  mild  and  placid  char 
acter,  with  nothing  bold  in  its  aspect ;  but  I  think  its 
beauties  will  grow  upon  us,  and  make  us  love  it  the 
more,  the  longer  we  live  here.  There  is  a  brook,  so 
near  the  house  that  we  shall  be  able  to  hear  its  ripple 


230  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841 

in  the  summer  evenings,  .  .  .  but,  for  agricultural 
purposes,  it  has  been  made  to  flow  in  a  straight  and 
rectangular  fashion,  which  does  it  infinite  damage  as  a 
picturesque  object.  .  .  . 

It  was  a  moment  or  two  before  I  could  think  whom 
you  meant  by  Mr.  Dismal  View.  Why,  he  i?  one  of 
the  best  of  the  brotherhood,  so  far  as  cheerfulness 
goes ;  for  if  he  do  not  laugh  himself,  he  makes  the 
rest  of  us  laugh  continually.  He  is  the  quaintest  and 
queerest  personage  you  ever  saw,  —  full  of  dry  jokes, 
the  humor  of  which  is  so  incorporated  with  the  strange 
twistifications  of  his  physiognomy,  that  his  sayings 
ought  to  be  written  down,  accompanied  with  illustra 
tions  by  Cruikshank.  Then  he  keeps  quoting  innu 
merable  scraps  of  Latin,  and  makes  classical  allusions, 
while  we  are  turning  over  the  gold  -  mine ;  and  the 
contrast  between  the  nature  of  his  employment  and 
the  character  of  his  thoughts  is  irresistibly  ludicrous. 

I  have  written  this  epistle  in  the  parlor,  while 
Farmer  Ripley,  and  Farmer  Farley,  and  Farmer  Dis 
mal  View  were  talking  about  their  agricultural  con 
cerns.  So  you  will  not  wonder  if  it  is  not  a  classical 
piece  of  composition,  either  in  point  of  thought  or  ex 
pression. 

•         •••••••• 

Mr.  Hipley  has  bought  four  black  pigs. 

April  2Zd — .  .  .  What  an  abominable  hand  do  1 
scribble !  but  I  have  been  chopping  wood,  and  turning 
a  grindstone  all  the  forenoon ;  and  such  occupations 
are  likely  to  disturb  the  equilibrium  of  the  muscles 
and  sinews.  It  is  an  endless  surprise  to  me  how  much 
vork  there  is  to  be  done  in  the  world  ;  but,  thank 
fjod,  I  am  able  to  do  my  share  of  it, — and  my  ability 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  231 

increases  daily.     What  a  great,  broad-shouldered,  elfr 
phantine  personage  I  shall  become  by  and  by ! 

I  milked  two  cows  this  morning,  and  would  send 
you  some  of  the  milk,  only  that  it  is  mingled  with  that 
^fhich  was  drawn  forth  by  Mr.  Dismal  View  and  the 
rest  of  the  brethren. 

April  28th.  — .  .  .  I  was  caught  by  a  cold  during 
my  visit  to  Boston.  It  has  not  affected  my  whole 
frame,  but  took  entire  possession  of  my  head,  as  being 
the  weakest  and  most  vulnerable  part.  Never  did 
anybody  sneeze  with  such  vehemence  and  frequency ; 
and  my  poor  brain  has  been  in  a  thick  fog ;  or,  rather, 
it  seemed  as  if  my  head  were  stuffed  with  coarse  wooL 
.  .  .  Sometimes  I  wanted  to  wrench  it  off,  and  give  it 
a  great  kick,  like  a  football. 

This  annoyance  has  made  me  endure  the  bad  weather 
with  even  less  than  ordinary  patience ;  and  my  faith 
was  so  far  exhausted  that,  when  they  told  me  yester 
day  that  the  ^un  was  setting  clear,  I  would  not  even 
turn  my  eyes  towards  the  west.  But  this  morning  I 
am  made  all  over  anew,  and  have  no  greater  remnant 
of  my  cold  than  will  serve  as  an  excuse  for  doing  no 
work  to-day. 

The  family  has  been  dismal  and  dolorous  through 
out  the  storm.  The  night  before  last,  William  Allen 
was  stung  by  a  wasp  on  the  eyelid ;  whereupon  the 
^hole  side  of  his  face  swelled  to  an  enormous  magni 
tude,  so  that,  at  the  breakfast-table,  one  half  of  him 
ooked  like  a  blind  giant  (the  eye  being  closed),  and 
the  other  half  had  such  a  sorrowful  and  ludicrous  as 
pect  that  I  was  constrained  to  laugh  out  of  sheer  pity 


232  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841 

The  same  day,  a  colony  of  wasps  was  discovered  in  my 
ahamber,  where  they  had  remained  throughout  the 
printer,  and  were  now  just  bestirring  themselves,  doubt 
less  with  the  intention  of  stinging  me  from  head  to 
foot.  ...  A  similar  discovery  was  made  in  Mr.  Far 
ley's  room.  In  short,  we  seem  to  have  taken  up  our 
abode  in  a  wasps'  nest.  Thus  you  see  a  rural  life  is 
not  one  of  unbroken  quiet  and  serenity. 

If  the  middle  of  the  day  prove  warm  and  pleasant, 
I  promise  myself  to  take  a  walk.  ...  I  have  taken 
one  walk  with  Mr.  Farley ;  and  I  could  not  have  be 
lieved  that  there  was  such  seclusion  at  so  short  a  dis 
tance  from  a  great  city.  Many  spots  seem  hardly 
to  have  been  visited  for  ages,  —  not  since  John  Eliot 
preached  to  the  Indians  here.  If  we  were  to  travel  a 
thousand  miles,  we  could  not  escape  the  world  more 
completely  than  we  can  here. 

I  read  no  newspapers,  and  hardly  remember  who  is 
President,  and  feel  as  if  I  had  no  more  concern  with 
what  other  people  trouble  themselves  about  than  if  I 
3  welt  in  another  planet. 

May  1st.  — ...  Every  day  of  my  life  makes  me 
feel  more  and  more  how  seldom  a  fact  is  accurately 
stated ;  how,  almost  invariably,  when  a  story  has 
passed  through  the  mind  of  a  third  person,  it  be 
comes,  so  far  as  regards  the  impression  that  it  makes 
in  further  repetitions,  little  better  than  a  falsehood, 
and  this,  too,  though  the  narrator  be  the  most  truth- 
seeking  person  in  existence.  How  marvellous  the 
tendency  is  !  ...  Is  truth  a  fantasy  which  we  arc  to 
pursue  forever  and  never  grasp  ? 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  235 

My  cold  has  almost  entirely  departed.  Were  it  a 
sunny  day,  I  should  consider  myself  quite  fit  for  labors 
out  of  doors ;  but  as  the  ground  is  so  damp,  and  the 
atmosphere  so  chill,  and  the  sky  so  sullen,  T  intend  to 
keep  myself  on  the  sick-list  this  one  day  longer,  more 
especially  as  I  wish  to  read  Carlyle  on  Heroes. 

There  has  been  but  one  flower  found  in  this  vicinity., 
— and  that  was  an  anemone,  a  poor,  pale,  shivering  lit* 
tie  flower,  that  had  crept  under  a  stone-wall  for  shelter 
Mr.  Farley  found  it,  while  taking  a  walk  with  me. 

.  .  .  This  is  May-Day !  Alas,  what  a  difference  be 
tween  the  ideal  and  the  real ! 

May  4tk. — .  .  .  My  cold  no  longer  troubles  me, 
and  all  the  morning  I  have  been  at  work  under  the 
clear,  blue  sky,  on  a  hill-side.  Sometimes  it  almost 
seemed  as  if  I  were  at  work  in  the  sky  itself,  though 
the  material  in  which  I  wrought  was  the  ore  from 
our  gold  -  mine.  Nevertheless,  there  is  nothing  so  un 
seemly  and  disagreeable  in  this  sort  of  toil  as  you 
could  think.  It  defiles  the  hands,  indeed,  but  not 
the  soul.  This  gold  ore  is  a  pure  and  wholesome  sub 
stance,  else  our  mother  Nature  would  not  devour  it  so 
readily,  and  derive  so  much  nourishment  from  it,  and 
return  such  a  rich  abundance  of  good  grain  and  roots 
in  requital  of  it. 

The  farm  is  growing  very  beautiful  now,  —  not  that 
we  yet  see  anything  of  the  peas  and  potatoes  which 
we  have  planted ;  but  the  grass  blushes  green  on  the 
slopes  and  hollows,  I  wrote  that  word  "  blush  "  al 
most  unconsciously ;  so  we  will  let  it  go  as  an  inspired! 
utterance.  When  I  go  forth  afield,  ...  I  look  be 
neath  the  stone-walls,  where  the  verdure  is  richest,  iu 


234  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [i84A 

hopes  that  a  little  company  of  violets,  or  some  solitary 
bud,  prophetic  of  the  summer,  may  be  there.  .  ,  .  Bu\ 
not  a  wild-flower  have  I  yet  found.  One  of  the  boyg 
gathered  some  yellow  cowslips  last  Sunday  ;  but  I  am 
well  content  not  to  have  found  them,  for  they  are  not 
precisely  what  I  should  like  to  send  to  you,  though 
they  deserve  honor  and  praise,  because  they  come  to 
us  when  no  others  will.  We  have  our  parlor  here 
dressed  in  evergreen  as  at  Christmas.  That  beautiful 
little  flower-vase  .  .  .  stands  on  Mr.  Ripley's  study- 
table,  at  which  I  am  now  writing.  It  contains  some 
daffodils  and  some  willow-blossoms.  I  brought  it  here 
rather  than  keep  it  in  my  chamber,  because  I  never 
sit  there,  and  it  gives  me  many  pleasant  emotions  to 
look  round  and  be  surprised  —  for  it  is  often  a  sur 
prise,  though  I  well  know  that  it  is  there  —  by  seme- 
thing  connected  with  the  idea  [of  a  friend]. 

I  do  not  believe  that  I  should  be  patient  here  if  1 
were  not  engaged  in  a  righteous  and  heaven-blessed 
way  of  life.  When  I  was  in  the  Custom  House  and 
then  at  Salem  I  was  not  half  so  patient.  .  .  . 

We  had  some  tableaux  last  evening,  the  principal 
characters  being  sustained  by  Mr.  Farley  and  Miss 
Ellen  Slade.  They  went  off  very  well.  .  .  . 

I  fear  it  is  time  for  me —  sod-coinpelling  as  I  am — 
to  take  the  field  again. 

May  11^/4. — .  .  .  This  morning  I  arose  at  milking 
time  in  good  trim  for  work ;  and  we  have  been  em 
ployed  partly  in  an  Augean  labor  of  clearing  out  a 
wood-shed,  and  partly  in  carting  loads  of  oak.  Thia 
afternoon  I  hope  to  have  something  to  do  in  the  field, 
for  these  jobs  about  the  house  are  not  at  all  to  mj 
taste. 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  235 

June  \st.  — ...  I  have  been  too  busy  to  write  a 
Jong  letter  by  this  opportunity,  for  I  think  this  pres 
ent  life  of  mine  gives  me  an  antipathy  to  pen  and  ink, 
even  more  than  my  Custom  House  experience  did. 
...  In  the  midst  of  toil,  or  after  a  hard  day's  work 
in  the  gold-mine,  my  soul  obstinately  refuses  to  be 
poured  out  on  paper.  That  abominable  gold  -  mir.e  ! 
Thank  God,  we  anticipate  getting  rid  of  its  treas 
ures  in  the  course  of  two  or  three  days !  Of  all  hate 
ful  places  that  is  the  worst,  and  I  shall  never  com 
fort  myself  for  having  spent  so  many  days  of  blessed 
sunshine  there.  It  is  my  opinion  that  a  man's  soul 
may  be  buried  and  perish  under  a  dung-heap,  or  in  a 
furrow  of  the  field,  just  as  well  as  under  a  pile  of 
money. 

Mr0  George  Bradford  will  probably  be  here  to-day, 
so  that  there  will  be  no  danger  of  my  being  under  the 
necessity  of  laboring  more  than  I  like  hereafter.  Mean 
time  my  health  is  perfect,  and  my  spirits  buoyant, 
even  in  the  gold-mine. 

August  12th.  — ...  I  am  very  well,  and  not  at 
all  weary,  for  yesterday's  rain  gave  us  a  holiday ;  and, 
moreover,  the  labors  of  the  farm  are  not  so  pressing 
as  they  have  been.  And,  joyful  thought !  in  a  little 
more  than  a  fortnight  I  shall  be  free  from  my  bond* 
age,  — .  .  .  free  to  enjoy  Nature,  —  free  to  think  and 
feel!  .  .  .  Even  my  Custom  House  experience  was 
not  such  a  thraldom  and  weariness ;  my  mind  and 
heart  were  free.  Oh,  labor  is  the  curse  of  the  world, 
and  nobody  can  meddle  with  ifc  without  becoming  pro- 
portionably  brutified!  Is  it  a  praiseworthy  matter 
that  I  have  spent  five  golden  months  hi  providing 
food  for  cows  and  horses  ?  It  is  not  so. 


236  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  H841 

August  l&th.  — I  am  very  well,  only  somewhat  tired 
with  walking  half  a  dozen  miles  immediately  after 
breakfast,  and  raking  hay  ever  since.  We  shall  quite 
finish  haying  this  week,  and  then  there  will  be  no 
more  very  hard  or  constant  labor  during  the  one  other 
week  that  I  shall  remain  a  slave. 

August  22cZ.  — ...  I  had  an  indispensable  engage 
ment  in  the  bean-field,  whither,  indeed,  I  was  glad  to 
betake  myself,  in  order  to  escape  a  parting  scene  with 

.     He  was  quite  out  of  his  wits  the  night  before, 

and  I  sat  up  with  him  till  long  past  midnight.  The 
farm  is  pleasanter  now  that  he  is  gone ;  for  his  unap 
peasable  wretchedness  threw  a  gloom  over  everything. 
Since  I  last  wrote,  we  have  done  haying,  and  the  re 
mainder  of  my  bondage  will  probably  be  light.  It 
will  be  a  long  time,  however,  before  I  shall  know  how 
to  make  a  good  use  of  leisure,  either  as  regards  enjoy 
ment  or  literary  occupation.  .  .  . 

It  is  extremely  doubtful  whether  Mr.  Eipley  will 
succeed  in  locating  his  community  on  this  farm.  He 

can  bring  Mr.  E to  no  terms,  and  the  more  they 

talk  about  the  matter,  the  further  they  appear  to  be 
from  a  settlement.  We  must  form  other  plans  for 
ourselves ;  for  I  can  see  few  or  no  signs  that  Provi 
dence  purposes  to  give  us  a  home  here.  I  am  weary, 
weary,  thrice  weary,  of  waiting  so  many  ages.  What 
ever  may  be  my  gifts,  I  have  not  hitherto  shown  a  sin 
gle  one  that  may  avail  to  gather  gold.  I  confess  that 
I  have  strong  hopes  of  good  from  this  arrangement 

with  M ;  but  when  I  look  at  the  scanty  avails  of 

my  past  literary  efforts,  I  do  not  feel  authorized  to 
expect  much  from  the  future.  Well,  we  shall  sea 
Other  persons  have  bought  large  estates  and  built 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  23? 

splendid  mansions  with  such  little  books  as  I  mean  to 
write ;  so  that  perhaps  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  hope 
that  mine  may  enable  me  to  build  a  little  cottage,  or, 
at  least,  to  buy  or  hire  one.  But  I  am  becoming 
more  and  more  convinced  that  we  must  not  lean  upon 
this  community.  Whatever  is  to  be  done  must  be 
done  by  my  own  undivided  strength.  I  shall  not  re 
main  here  through  the  winter,  unless  with  an  absolute 
certainty  that  there  will  be  a  house  ready  for  us  in  the 
spring.  Otherwise,  I  shall  return  to  Boston,  —  still, 
however,  considering  myself  an  associate  of  the  com 
munity,  so  that  we  may  take  advantage  of  any  more 
favorable  aspect  of  affairs.  How  much  depends  on 
these  little  books !  Methinks  if  anything  could  draw 
out  my  whole  strength,  it  would  be  the  motives  that 
now  press  upon  me.  Yet,  after  all,  I  must  keep  these 
considerations  out  of  my  mind,  because  an  external 
pressure  always  disturbs  instead  of  assisting  me. 

Salem,  September  3c?.  —  •  •  L.  -But  really  I  should 
judge  it  to  be  twenty  years  since  I  left  Brook  Farm ; 
and  I  take  this  to  be  one  proof  that  my  life  there  was 
an  unnatural  and  unsuitable,  and  therefore  an  unreal, 
one.  It  already  looks  like  a  dream  behind  me.  The 
real  Me  was  never  an  associate  of  the  community; 
there  has  been  a  spectral  Appearance  there,  sounding 
the  horn  at  daybreak,  and  milking  the  cows,  and  hoe 
ing  potatoes,  and  raking  hay,  toiling  in  the  sun,  and 
doing  me  the  honor  to  .assume  my  name.  But  this 
spectre  was  not  myself. ,  Nevertheless,  it  is  somewhat 
remarkable  that  my  hands  have,  during  the  past  sum 
mer,  grown  very  brown  and  rough,  insomuch  that 
many  people  persist  in  believing  that  I,  after  all,  was 
flie  aforesaid  spectral  horn-sounder,  cow-milker,  pota- 


238  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1843. 

to-hoer,  and  hay-raker.  But  such  people  do  not  know 
a  reality  from  a  shadow.  Enough  of  nonsense.  I 
know  not  exactly  how  soon  I  shall  return  to  the  farm. 
Perhaps  not  sooner  than  a  fortnight  from  to-morrow. 

Salem,  September  14th.  — ...  Master  Cheever  is 
a  very  good  subject  for  a  sketch,  especially  if  he  be 
portrayed  in  the  very  act  of  executing  judgment  on  an 
evil-doer.  The  little  urchin  may  be  laid  across  his 
knee,  and  his  arms  and  legs,  and  whole  person  indeed, 
should  be  flying  all  abroad,  in  an  agony  of  nervous 
excitement  and  corporeal  smart.  The  Master,  on 
the  other  hand,  must  be  calm,  rigid,  without  anger  or 
pity,  the  very  personification  of  that  immitigable  law 
whereby  suffering  follows  sin.  Meantime  the  lion's 
head  should  have  a  sort  of  sly  twist  on  one  side  of  its 
mouth,  and  a  wink  of  one  eye,  in  order  to  give  the  im 
pression  that,  after  all,  the  crime  and  the  punishment 
are  neither  of  them  the  most  serious  things  in  the 
world.  I  could  draw  the  sketch  myself,  if  I  had  but 
the  use  of 's  magic  fingers. 

Then  the  Acadians  will  do  very  well  for  the  second 
sketch.  They  might  be  represented  as  just  landing  on 
the  wharf;  or  as  presenting  themselves  before  Gov 
ernor  Shirley,  seated  in  the  great  chair.  Another  sub 
ject  might  be  old  Cotton  Mather,  venerable  in  a  three- 
cornered  hat  and  other  antique  attire,  walking  the 
streets  of  Boston,  and  lifting  up  his  hands  to  bless  the 
people,  while  they  all  revile  him.  An  old  dame  should 
be  seen,  flinging  water,  or  emptying  some  vials  of 
medicine,  on  his  head  from  the  latticed  window  of  an 
old-fashioned  house ;  and  all  around  must  be  tokens 
pf  pestilence  and  mourning,  —  as  a  coffin  borne  alongt 
—  a  woman  or  children  weeping  on  a  doorstep.  Can 
the  tolling  of  the  Old  South  bell  be  painted? 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  239 

If  not  this,  then  the  military  council,  holden  at  Eos« 
ton  by  the  Earl  of  Loudon  and  other  captains  and 
governors,  might  be  taken,  —  his  lordship  in  the  great 
chair,  an  old-fashioned,  military  figure,  with  a  star  on 
his  breast.  Some  of  Louis  XV.'s  commanders  will 
give  the  costume.  On  the  table,  and  scattered  about 
the  room,  must  be  . symbols  of  warfare,  —  swords,  pis 
tols,  plumed  hats,  a  drum,  trumpet,  and  rolled-up  ban- 
ner  in  one  heap.  It  were  not  amiss  to  introduce  the 
armed  figure  of  an  Indian  chief,  as  taking  part  in  the 
council,  —  or  standing  apart  from  the  English,  erect 
and  stern. 

Now  for  Liberty  Tree.  There  is  an  engraving  of 
that  famous  vegetable  in  Snow's  History  of  Boston. 
If  represented,  I  see  not  what  scene  can  be  beneath  it, 
save  poor  Mr.  Oliver,  taking  the  oath.  He  must  have 
on  a  bag-wig,  ruffled  sleeves,  embroidered  coat,  and  all 
such  ornaments,  because  he  is  the  representative  of 
aristocracy  and  an  artificial  system.  The  people  may 
be  as  rough  and  wild  as  the  fancy  can  make  them ; 
nevertheless,  there  must  be  one  or  two  grave,  puritan 
ical  figures  in  the  midst.  Such  an  one  might  sit  in 
the  great  chair,  and  be  an  emblem  of  that  stern,  con 
siderate  spirit  which  brought  about  the  Revolution. 
But  this  would  be  a  hard  subject. 

But  what  a  dolt  am  I  to  obtrude  my  counsel.  .  .  . 

September  16th.  — .  ...  I  do  not  very  well  recol 
lect  Monsieur  du  Miroir,  but,  as  to  Mrs.  Bullfrog,  I 
give  her  up  to  the  severest  reprehension.  The  story 
was  written  as  a  mere  experiment  in  that  style ;  it  did 
not  come  from  any  depth  within  me,—  neither  my 
heart  nor  mind  had  anything  to  do  with  it.  I  recol 
lect  that  the  Man  of  Adamant  seemed  a  fine  idea  to 


240  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841 

me  when  I  looked  at  it  prophetically ;  but  I  failed  in 
giving  shape  and  substance  to  the  vision  which  I  saw. 
I  don't  think  it  can  be  very  good.  .  .  . 

I  cannot  believe  all  these  stories  about  ,  be 
cause  such  a  rascal  never  could  be  sustained  and  coun= 
tenanced  by  respectable  men.  I  take  him  to  be  neither 
better  nor  worse  than  the  average  of  his  tribe.  How- 
ever,  I  intend  to  have  all  my  copyrights  taken  out  in 
my  own  name ;  and,  if  he  cheat  me  once,  I  will  have 
nothing  more  to  do  with  him,  but  will  straightway 
be  cheated  by  some  other  publisher,  —  that  being,  of 
course,  the  only  alternative. 

Governor  Shirley's  young  French  wife  might  be  the 
subject  of  one  of  the  cuts.  She  should  sit  in  the  great 
chair,  —  perhaps  with  a  dressing-glass  before  her,  — 
and  arrayed  in  all  manner  of  fantastic  finery,  and  with 
an  outre  French  air,  while  the  old  Governor  is  leaning 
fondly  over  her,  and  a  puritanic  councillor  or  two  are 
manifesting  their  disgust  in  the  background.  A  negro 
footman  and  a  French  waiting-maid  might  be  in  at 
tendance. 

In  Liberty  Tree  might  be  a  vignette,  representing 
the  chair  in  a  very  shattered,  battered,  and  forlorn 
condition,  after  it  had  been  ejected  from  Hutehinson'a 
house.  This  would  serve  to  impress  the  reader  with 
the  woful  vicissitudes  of  sublunary  things.  .  .  . 

Did  you  ever  behold  such  a  vile  scribble  as  I  write 
since  I  became  a  farmer?  My  chirography  always 
was  abominable,  but  now  it  is  outrageous. 

Brook  Farm,  September  22cZ,  1841.  — .  .  .  Here 
1  am  again,  slowly  adapting  myself  to  the  life  of  this 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  241 

queer  community,  whence  I  seem  to  have  been  absent 
half  a  lifetime,  —  so  utterly  have  I  grown  apart  from 
the  spirit  and  manners  of  the  place.  ...  I  was  most 
kindly  received  ;  and  the  fields  and  woods  looked  verj- 
pleasant  in  the  bright  sunshine  of  the  day  before  yes 
terday,  I  have  a  friendlier  disposition  towards  the 
farm,  now  that  I  am  no  longer  obliged  to  toil  in  its 
stubborn  furrows.  Yesterday  and  to-day,  however, 
the  weather  has  been  intolerable,  —  cold,  chill,  sullen, 
so  that  it  is  impossible  to  be  on  kindly  terms  with 
Mother  Nature.  .  .  . 

I  doubt  whether  I  shall  succeed  in  writing  another 
volume  of  Grandfather's  Library  while  I  remain  here. 
I  have  not  the  sense  of  perfect  seclusion  which  has  al 
ways  been  essential  to  my  power  of  producing  any 
thing.  It  is  true,  nobody  intrudes  into  my  room : 
bnt  still  I  cannot  be  quiet.  Nothing  here  is  settled  ; 
everything  is  but  beginning  to  arrange  itself,  and 
though  I  would  seem  to  have  little  to  do  with  aught 
beside  my  own  thoughts,  still  I  cannot  but  partake  of 
the  ferment  around  me.  My  mind  will  not  be  ab 
stracted.  I  must  observe,  and  think,  and  feel,  and 
content  myself  with  catching  glimpses  of  things  which 
may  be  wrought  out  hereafter.  Perhaps  it  will  be 
quite  as  well  that  I  find  myself  unable  to  set  seriously 
about  literary  occupation  for  the  present.  It  will  be 
good  to  have  a  longer  interval  between  my  labor  of 
the  body  and  that  of  the  mind.  I  shall  work  to  the 
better  purpose  after  the  beginning  of  November. 
Meantime  I  shall  see  these  people  and  their  enter 
prise  under  a  new  point  of  view,  and  perhaps  be  able 
fco  determine  whether  we  have  any  call  to  cast  in  our 
lot  among  them. 


VOL.  DC. 


242  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841 

I  do  wish  the  weather  would  put  off  this  sulky 
mood.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  warmth  and  bright 
ness  of  Monday,  when  I  arrived  here,  I  should  have 
supposed  that  all  sunshine  had  left  Brook  Farm  for 
ever.  I  have  no  disposition  to  take  long  walks  in 
such  a  state  of  the  sky ;  nor  have  I  any  buoyancy  of 
spiritc  I  am  a  very  dull  person  just  at  this  time. 

September  25th.  —  ...  One  thing  is  certain.  I 
cannot  and  will  not  spend  the  winter  here.  The  time 
would  be  absolutely  thrown  away  so  far  as  regards  any 
literary  labor  to  be  performed.  .  .  . 

The  intrusion  of  an  outward  necessity  into  labors 
of  the  imagination  and  intellect  is,  to  me,  very  pain 
ful.  .  .  . 

I  had  rather  a  pleasant  walk  to  a  distant  meadow  a 
day  or  two  ago,  and  we  found  white  and  purple  grapes 
in  great  abundance,  ripe,  and  gushing  with  rich,  pure 
juice  when  the  hand  pressed  the  clusters.  Did  you 
know  what  treasures  of  wild  grapes  there  are  in  this 
land?  If  we  dwell  here,  we  will  make  our  own 
wine.  .  .  . 

September  27th.  — ...  Now,  as  to  the  affair  with 

,  I  fully  confide  in  your  opinion  that  he  intends 

to  make  an  unequal  bargain  with  poor,  simple,  inno 
cent  me,  —  never  having  doubted  this  myself.  But 
how  is  he  to  accomplish  it  ?  I  am  not,  nor  shall  be, 
the  least  in  his  power,  whereas  he  is,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent,  in  mine.  He  might  announce  his  projected  Li 
brary,  with  me  for  the  editor,  in  all  the  newspapers  in 
the  universe ;  but  still  I  could  not  be  bound  to  become 
the  editor,  unless  by  my  own  act ;  nor  should  I  have 
the  slightest  scruple  in  refusing  to  be  so,  at  the  last 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  243 

moment,  if  he  persisted  in  treating  me  with  injustice, 
Then,  as  for  his  printing  "  Grandfather's  Chair,"  I  have 
the  copyright  in  my  own  hands,  and  could  and  would 
prevent  the  sale,  or  make  him  account  to  me  for  the 
profits,  in  case  of  need.  Meantime  he  is  making  ar 
rangements  for  publishing  the  Library,  contracting 
with  other  booksellers,  and  with  printers  and  engrav 
ers,  and,  with  every  step,  making  it  more  difficult  for 
himself  to  draw  back.  I,  on  the  other  hand,  do  noth 
ing  which  I  should  not  do  if  the  affair  with  •< were 

at  an  end ;  for,  if  I  write  a  book,  it  will  be  just  as 
available  for  some  other  publisher  as  for  him.  In 
stead  of  getting  me  into  his  power  by  this  delay,  he 
has  trusted  to  my  ignorance  and  simplicity,  and  has 
put  himself  in  my  power. 

He  is  not  insensible  of  this.  At  our  last  interview, 
he  himself  introduced  the  subject  of  the  bargain,  and 
appeared  desirous  to  close  it.  But  I  was  not  prepared, 
—  among  other  reasons,  because  I  do  not  yet  see  what 
materials  I  shall  have  for  the  republications  in  the  Li 
brary;  the  works  that  he  has  shown  me  being  ill 
adapted  for  that  purpose;  and  I  wish  first  to  see  some 
French  and  German  books  which  he  has  sent  for  to 
New  York.  And,  before  concluding  the  bargain,  I 
have  promised  George  Hillard  to  consult  him,  and  let 
him  do  the  business.  Is  not  this  consummate  dis 
cretion  ?  and  am  I  not  perfectly  safe  ?  .  .  .  I  look  at 
the  matter  with  perfect  composure,  and  see  all  round 
my  own  position,  and  know  that  it  is  impregnable. 

I  was  elected  to  two  high  offices  last  night,  —  viz, 
to  be  a  trustee  of  the  Brook  Farm  estate,  and  Chair 
man  of  the  Committee  of  Finance  !  .  .  .  From  the 
nature  of  my  office,  I  shall  have  the  chief  direction 


244  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOORS.  [18** 

of  all  the  money  affairs  of  the  community,  the  making 
of  bargains,  the  supervision  of  receipts  and  expendi 
tures,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.  .  .  . 

My  accession  to  these  august  offices  does  not  at  all 
decide  the  question  of  my  remaining  here  permanently, 
I  told  Mr.  Ripley  that  I  could  not  spend  the  winteif 
at  the  farm,  and  that  it  was  quite  uncertain  whether  I 
returned  in  the  spring.  .  .  . 

Take  no  part,  I  beseech  you,  in  these  magnetic  mira 
cles.  I  am  unwilling  that  a  power  should  be  exercised 
on  you  of  which  we  know  neither  the  origin  nor  conse 
quence,  and  the  phenomena  of  which  seem  rather  cal 
culated  to  bewilder  us  than  to  teach  us  any  truths 
about  the  present  or  future  state  of  being.  .  .  ,  Sup 
posing  that  the  power  arises  from  the  transfusion  of 
one  spirit  into  another,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  sacred- 
ness  of  an  individual  is  violated  by  it ;  there  would  be 
an  intruder  into  the  holy  of  holies.  ...  I  have  no 
faith  whatever  that  people  are  raised  to  the  seventh 
heaven,  or  to  any  heaven  at  all,  or  that  they  gain  any 
insight  into  the  mysteries  of  life  beyond  death,  by 
means  of  this  strange  science.  Without  distrusting 
that  the  phenomena  have  really  occurred,  I  think  that 
they  are  to  be  accounted  for  as  the  result  of  a  mate 
rial  and  physical,  not  of  a  spiritual,  influence.  Opium 
has  produced  many  a  brighter  vision  of  heaven,  I 
fancy,  and  just  as  susceptible  of  proof,  as  these.  They 
are  dreams.  .  .  .  And  what  delusion  can  be  more  lam 
entable  and  mischievous,  than  to  mistake  the  physical 
and  material  for  the  spiritual  ?  What  so  miserable 
as  to  lose  the  soul's  true,  though  hidden,  knowledge 
and  consciousness  of  heaven  in  the  mist  of  an  earth- 
born  vision  ?  If  we  would  know  what  heaven  is  be 
fore  we  come  thither,  let  us  retire  into  the  depths  of 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  245 

our  own  spirits,  and  we  shall  find  it  there  among  holy 
thoughts  and  feelings  ;  but  let  us  not  degrade  high 
heaven  and  its  inhabitants  into  any  such  symbols  and 

forms  as  Miss  L describes  ;  do  not  let  an  earthly 

effluence  from  Mrs.  P 's  corporeal  system  bewil 
der  and  perhaps  contaminate,  something  spiritual  and 
sacred.  I  should  as  soon  think  of  seeking  revelations 
of  the  future  state  in  the  rottenness  of  the  grave, — 
where  so  many  do  seek  it.  ... 

The  view  which  I  take  of  this  matter  is  caused  by 
no  want  of  faith  in  mysteries  ;  but  from  a  deep  rever 
ence  of  the  soul,  and  of  the  mysteries  which  it  knows 
within  itself,  but  never  transmits  to  the  earthly  eye 
and  ear.  Keep  the  imagination  sane,  —  that  is  one 
of  the  truest  conditions  of  communion  with  heaven. 

Brook  Farm,  September  2Qt7i.  —  A  walk  this  morn 
ing  along  the  Needham  road.  A  clear,  breezy  morning, 
after  nearly  a  week  of  cloudy  and  showery  weather. 
The  grass  is  much  more  fresh  and  vivid  than  it  was 
last  month,  and  trees  still  retain  much  of  their  ver 
dure,  though  here  and  there  is  a  shrub  or  a  bough 
arrayed  in  scarlet  and  gold.  Along  the  road,  in  the 
midst  of  a  beaten  track,  I  saw  mushrooms  or  toad 
stools  which  had  sprung  up  probably  during  the  night. 

The  houses  in  this  vicinity  are,  many  of  them,  quite 
antique,  with  long,  sloping  roofs,  commencing  at  a 
few  feet  from  the  ground,  and  ending  in  a  lofty  peak. 
Some  of  them  have  huge  old  elms  overshadowing  the 
yard.  One  may  see  the  family  sleigh  near  the  door, 
it  having  stood  there  all  through  the  summer  sun 
shine,  and  perhaps  with  weeds  sprouting  through  the 
crevices  of  its  bottom,  the  growth  of  the  months  since 
snow  departed.  Old  barns,  patched  and  supported 


246  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841 

by  timbers  leaning  against  the  sides,  and  stained  with 
the  excrement  of  past  ages. 

In  the  forenoon  I  walked  along  the  edge  of  the 
meadow  towards  Cow  Island.  Large  trees,  almost  a 
wood,  principally  of  pine  with  the  green  pasture-glades 
intermixed,  and  cattle  feeding.  They  cease  grazing 
when  an  intruder  appears,  and  look  at  him  with  long 
and  wary  observation,  then  bend  their  heads  to  the 
pasture  again.  Where  the  firm  ground  of  the  pasture 
ceases,  the  meadow  begins,  —  loose,  spongy,  yielding 
to  the  tread,  sometimes  permitting  the  foot  to  sink 
into  black  mud,  or  perhaps  over  ankles  in  water.  Cat 
tle-paths,  somewhat  firmer  than  the  general  surface, 
traverse  the  dense  shrubbery  which  has  overgrown  the 
meadow.  This  shrubbery  consists  of  small  birch,  el 
ders,  maples,  and  other  trees,  with  here  and  there 
white-pines  of  larger  growth.  The  whole  is  tangled 
and  wild  and  thick-set,  so  that  it  is  necessary  to  part 
the  nestling  stems  and  branches,  and  go  crashing 
through.  There  are  creeping  plants  of  various  sorts 
which  clamber  up  the  trees ;  and  some  of  them  have 
changed  color  in  the  slight  frosts  which  already  have 
befallen  these  low  grounds,  so  that  one  sees  a  spiral 
wreath  of  scarlet  leaves  twining  up  to  the  top  of  a 
green  tree,  intermingling  its  bright  hues  with  their 
verdure,  as  if  all  were  of  one  piece.  Sometimes, 
instead  of  scarlet,  the  spiral  wreath  is  of  a  golden 
yellow. 

Within  the  verge  of  the  meadow,  mostly  near  the 
firm  shore  of  pasture  ground,  I  found  several  grape- 
vines,  hung  with  an  abundance  of  large  purple  grapes. 
The  vines  had  caught  hold  of  maples  and  alders,  and 
climbed  to  the  summit,  curling  round  about  and  in- 
terwreathingr  their  twisted  folds  in  so  intimate  a  man? 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  247 

ner  that  it  was  not  easy  to  tell  the  parasite  from  the 
supporting  tree  or  shrub.  Sometimes  the  same  vine 
had  enveloped  several  shrubs,  and  caused  a  strange, 
tangled  confusion,  converting  all  these  poor  plants  to 
the  purpose  of  its  own  support,  and  hindering  their 
growing  to  their  own  benefit  and  convenience.  The 
broad  vine-leaves,  some  of  them  yellow  or  yellowish- 
tinged,  were  seen  apparently  growing  on  the  same 
stems  with  the  silver-mapled  leaves,  and  those  of  the 
other  shrubs,  thus  married  against  their  will  by  the 
conjugal  twine ;  and  the  purple  clusters  of  grapes 
hung  down  from  above  and  in  the  midst,  so  that  one 
might  "  gather  grapes,"  if  not  "  of  thorns,"  yet  of  as 
alien  bushes. 

One  vine  had  ascended  almost  to  the  tip  of  a  large 
white-pine,  spreading  its  leaves  and  hanging  its  pur 
ple  clusters  among  all  its  boughs,  —  still  climbing  and 
clambering,  as  if  it  would  not  be  content  till  it  had 
crowned  the  very  summit  with  a  wreath  of  its  own 
foliage  and  bunches  of  grapes.  I  mounted  high  into 
the  tree,  and  ate  the  fruit  there,  while  the  vine 
wreathed  still  higher  into  the  depths  above  my  head. 
The  grapes  were  sour,  being  not  yet  fully  ripe.  Some 
of  them,  however,  were  sweet  and  pleasant. 

September  21th.  —  A  ride  to  Brighton  yesterday 
morning,  it  being  the  day  of  the  weekly  cattle-fair. 
William  Allen  and  myself  went  in  a  wagon,  carrying 
a  calf  to  be  sold  at  the  fair.  The  calf  had  not  had 
his  breakfast,  as  his  mother  had  preceded  him  to 
Brighton,  and  he  kept  expressing  his  hunger  and  dis 
comfort  by  loud,  sonorous  baas,  especially  when  we 
passed  any  cattle  in  the  fields  or  in  the  road.  The 
cows,  grazing  within  hearing,  expressed  great  interest, 


248  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841 

and  some  of  them  came  galloping  to  the  roadside  to 
behold  the  calf.  Little  children,  also,  on  their  way 
to  school,  stopped  to  laugh  and  point  at  poor  little 
Bossie.  He  was  a  prettily  behaved  urchin,  and  kept 
thrusting  his  hairy  muzzle  between  William  and  my 
self,  apparently  wishing  to  be  stroked  and  patted.  It 
was  an  ugly  thought  that  his  confidence  in  human 
nature,  and  nature  in  general,  was  to  be  so  ill  re 
warded  as  by  cutting  his  throat,  and  selling  him  in 
quarters.  This,  I  suppose,  has  been  his  fate  beforr 
now ! 

It  was  a  beautiful  morning,  clear  as  crystal,  with 
an  invigorating,  but  not  disagreeable  coolness.  The 
general  aspect  of  the  country  was  as  green  as  sum 
mer,  —  greener  indeed  than  mid  or  latter  summer,  — 
and  there  were  occasional  interminglings  of  the  brill 
iant  hues  of  autumn,  which  made  the  scenery  more 
beautiful,  both  visibly  and  in  sentiment.  We  saw  no 
absolutely  mean  nor  poor  -  looking  abodes  along  the 
road.  There  were  warm  and  comfortable  farm-houses, 
ancient,  with  the  porch,  the  sloping  roof,  the  antique 
peak,  the  clustered  chimney,  of  old  times ;  and  mod 
ern  cottages,  smart  and  tasteful ;  and  villas,  with  ter 
races  before  them,  and  dense  shade,  and  wooden  urns 
on  pillars,  and  other  such  tokens  of  gentility.  Pleas 
ant  groves  of  oak  and  walnut,  also,  there  were,  some 
times  stretching  along  valleys,  sometimes  ascending  a 
hill  and  clothing  it  all  round,  so  as  to  make  it  a  great 
clump  of  verdure.  Frequently  we  passed  people  with 
cows,  oxen,  sheep,  or  pigs  for  Brighton  Fair. 

On  arriving  at  Brighton,  we  found  the  village 
thronged  with  people,  horses,  and  vehicles.  Probably 
there  is  no  place  in  New  England  where  the  character 
of  an  agricultural  population  may  be  so  well  studied- 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  249 

Almost  all  the  farmers  within  a  reasonable  distance 
make  it  a  point,  I  suppose,  to  attend  Brighton  Fair 
pretty  frequently,  if  not  on  business,  yet  as  amateurs. 
Then  there  are  all  the  cattle-people  and  butchers  who 
supply  the  Boston  market,  and  dealers  from  far  and 
near  ;  and  every  man  who  has  a  cow  or  a  yoke  of  oxen, 
whether  to  sell  or  buy,  goes  to  Brighton  on  Monday, 
There  were  a  thousand  or  two  of  cattle  in  the  extensive 
pens  belonging  to  the  tavern-keeper,  besides  many  that 
were  standing  about.  One  could  hardly  stir  a  step 
without  running  upon  the  horns  of  one  dilemma  or  an 
other,  in  the  shape  of  ox,  cow,  bull,  or  ram.  The  yeo 
men  appeared  to  be  more  in  their  element  than  I  have 
ever  seen  them  anywhere  else,  except,  indeed,  at  labor, 
• —  more  so  than  at  musterings  and  such  gatherings  of 
amusement.  And  yet  this  was  a  sort  of  festal  day,  as 
well  as  a  day  of  business.  Most  of  the  people  were  of 
a  bulky  make,  with  much  bone  and  muscle,  and  some 
good  store  of  fat,  as  if  they  had  lived  on  flesh  -  diet ; 
with  mottled  faces,  too,  hard  and  red,  like  those  of 
persons  who  adhered  to  the  old  fashion  of  spirit-drink 
ing.  Great,  round  -  paunched  country  squires  were 
there  too,  sitting  under  the  porch  of  the  tavern,  or 
waddling  about,  whip  in  hand,  discussing  the  points  of 
the  cattle.  There  were  also  gentlemen-farmers,  neatly  s 
trimly,  and  fashionably  dressed,  in  handsome  surtoutj, 
and  trousers  strapped  under  their  boots.  Yeomen,  to  j, 
in  their  black  or  blue  Sunday  suits,  cut  by  country 
tailors,  and  awkwardly  worn.  Others  (like  myself) 
had  on  the  blue  stuff  frocks  which  they  wear  in  the 
fields,  the  most  comfortable  garments  that  ever  were 
invented.  Country  loafers  were  among  the  throng,  — 
men  who  looked  wistfully  at  the  liquors  in  the  bar, 
and  waited  for  some  friend  to  invite  them  to  drink,  — 


250  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841. 

poor,  shabby,  out  -  at  -  elbowed  devils.  Also,  dandies 
from  the  city,  corseted  and  buckramed,  who  had  come 
to  see  the  humors  of  Brighton  Fair.  All  these,  and 
other  varieties  of  mankind,  either  thronged  the  spacious 
bar-room  of  the  hotel,  drinking,  smoking,  talking,  bar 
gaining,  or  walked  about  among  the  cattle-pens,  look 
ing  with  knowing  eyes  at  the  horned  people.  The  own 
ers  of  the  cattle  stood  near  at  hand,  waiting  for  offers*, 
There  was  something  indescribable  in  their  aspect,  that 
showed  them  to  be  the  owners,  though  they  mixed 
among  the  crowd.  The  cattle,  brought  from  a  hundred 
separate  farms,  or  rather  a  thousand,  seemed  to  agree 
very  well  together,  not  quarrelling  in  the  least.  They 
almost  all  had  a  history,  no  doubt,  if  they  could  but 
have  told  it.  The  cows  had  each  given  her  milk  to 
support  families,  —  had  roamed  the  pastures,  and  come 
home  to  the  barn-yard,  had  been  looked  upon  as  a 
sort  of  member  of  the  domestic  circle,  and  was  known 
by  a  name,  as  Brindle  or  Cherry.  The  oxen,  with 
their  necks  bent  by  the  heavy  yoke,  had  toiled  in  the 
plough-field  and  in  haying-time  for  many  years,  and 
knew  their  master's  stall  as  well  as  the  master  himself 
knew  his  own  table.  Even  the  young  steers  and  the  lit 
tle  calves  had  something  of  domestic  sacredness  about 
them ;  for  children  had  watched  their  growth,  and 
petted  them,  and  played  with  them.  And  here  they 
all  were,  old  and  young,  gathered  from  their  thousand 
homes  to  Brighton  Fair ;  whence  the  great  chance  was 
that  they  would  go  to  the  slaughter-house,  and  thence 
be  transmitted,  in  surloins,  joints,  and  such  pieces,  to 
the  tables  of  the  Boston  folk. 

William  Allen  had  come  to  buy  four  little  pigs  to 
take  the  places  of  four  who  have  now  grown  large  at 
our  farm,  and  are  to  be  fatted  and  killed  within  a  few 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  251 

weeks.  There  were  several  hundreds,  in  pens  appro 
priated  to  their  use,  grunting  discordantly,  and  appar 
ently  in  no  very  good  humor  with  their  companions  or 
the  world  at  large.  Most  or  many  of  these  pigs  had 
been  imported  from  the  State  of  New  York.  The 
drovers  set  out  with  a  large  number,  and  peddle  them 
along  the  road  till  they  arrive  at  Brighton  with  the 
remainder.  William  selected  four,  and  bought  them 
at  five  cents  per  pound.  These  poor  little  porkers 
were  forthwith  seized  by  the  tails,  their  legs  tied,  and 
they  thrown  into  our  wagon,  where  they  kept  up  a  con 
tinual  grunt  and  squeal  till  we  got  home.  Two  of 
them  were  yellowish,  or  light  gold  -  color,  the  other 
two  were  black  and  white  speckled  ;  and  all  four  of 
very  piggish  aspect  and  deportment.  One  of  them 
snapped  at  William's  finger  most  spitefully  and  bit  it 
to  the  bone. 

All  the  scene  of  the  Fair  was  very  characteristic 
and  peculiar,  —  cheerful  and  lively,  too,  in  the  bright, 
warm  sun.  I  must  see  it  again ;  for  it  ought  to  be 
studied. 

September  28th.  —  A  picnic  party  in  the  woods, 
yesterday,  in  honor  of  little  Frank  Dana's  birthday, 
he  being  six  years  old.  I  strolled  out,  after  dinner, 
with  Mr.  Bradford,  and  in  a  lonesome  glade  we  met 
the  apparition  of  an  Indian  chief,  dressed  in  appropri 
ate  costume  of  blanket,  feathers,  and  paint,  and  armed 
with  a  musket.  Almost  at  the  same  time,  a  young 
gypsy  fortune-teller  came  from  among  the  trees,  and 
proposed  to  tell  my  fortune.  While  she  was  doing 
this,  the  goddess  Diana  let  fly  an  arrow,  and  hit  me 
smartly  in  the  hand.  The  fortune-teller  and  goddess 
were  in  fine  contrast,  Diana  being  a  blonde,  fair,  quiet. 


252  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841. 

with  a  moderate  composure  ;  and  the  gypsy  (O.  G.) 
a  bright,  vivacious,  dark -haired,  rich  -  complexioned 
damsel,  —  both  of  them  very  pretty,  at  least  pretty 
enough  to  make  fifteen  years  enchanting.  Accompa 
nied  by  these  denizens  of  the  wild  wood,  we  went  on 
ward,  and  came  to  a  company  of  fantastic  figures,  ar 
ranged  in  a  ring  for  a  dance  or  a  game.  There  was  a 
Swiss  girl,  an  Indian  squaw,  a  negro  of  the  Jim  Crow 
order,  one  or  two  foresters,  and  several  people  in 
Christian  attire,  besides  children  of  all  ages.  Then 
followed  childish  games,  in  which  the  grown  people 
took  part  with  mirth  enough,  —  while  I,  whose  nature 
it  is  to  be  a  mere  spectator  both  of  sport  and  serious 
business,  lay  under  the  trees  and  looked  on.  Mean- 
while,  Mr.  Emerson  and  Miss  Fuller,  who  arrived  an 
hour  or  two  before,  came  forth  into  the  little  glade 
where  we  were  assembled.  Here  followed  much  talk. 
The  ceremonies  of  the  day  concluded  with  a  cold  col 
lation  of  cakes  and  fruit.  All  was  pleasant  enough, 
—  an  excellent  piece  of  work,  —  "  would  't  were  done ! " 
It  has  left  a  fantastic  impression  on  my  memory,  this 
intermingling  of  wild  and  fabulous  characters  with  real 
and  homely  ones,  in  the  secluded  nook  of  the  woods. 
I  remember  them,  with  the  sunlight  breaking  through 
overshadowing  branches,  and  they  appearing  and  dis 
appearing  confusedly,  —  perhaps  starting  out  of  the 
earth ;  as  if  the  every-day  laws  of  nature  were  sus 
pended  for  this  particular  occasion.  There  were  the 
children,  too,  laughing  and  sporting  about,  as  if  they 
were  at  home  among  such  strange  shapes,  —  and  anon 
bursting  into  loud  uproar  of  lamentation,  when  the 
rude  gambols  of  the  merry  archers  chanced  to  over 
turn  them.  And  apart,  with  a  shrewd,  Yankee  obser 
vation  of  the  scene,  stands  our  friend  Orange,  a  thick- 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  253 

set,  sturdy  figure,  enjoying  the  fun  well  enough,  yet, 
rather  laughing  with  a  perception  of  its  nonsensical- 
ness  than  at  all  entering  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing. 

This  morning  I  have  been  helping  to  gather  apples. 
The  principal  farm  labors  at  this  time  are  ploughing 
for  winter  rye,  and  breaking  up  the  greensward  for 
next  year's  crop  of  potatoes,  gathering  squashes,  and 
not  much  else,  except  such  year-round  employments  as 
milking.  The  crop  of  rye,  to  be  sure,  is  in  process  of 
being  threshed,  at  odd  intervals. 

I  ought  to  have  mentioned  among  the  diverse  and 
incongruous  growths  of  the  picnic  party  our  two 
Spanish  boys  from  Manilla,  —  Lucas,  with  his  heavy 
features  and  almost  mulatto  complexion  ;  and  Jose*, 
slighter,  with  rather  a  feminine  face,  —  not  a  gay, 
girlish  one,  but  grave,  reserved,  eying  you  sometimes 
with  an  earnest  but  secret  expression,  and  causing  you 
to  question  what  sort  of  person  he  is. 

Friday,  October  1st.  —  I  have  been  looking  at  our 
four  swine,  —  not  of  the  last  lot,  but  those  in  process 
of  fattening.  They  lie  among  the  clean  rye  straw  in 
the  sty,  nestling  close  together ;  for  they  seem  to  be 
beasts  sensitive  to  the  cold,  and  this  is  a  clear,  bright, 
crystal  morning,  with  a  cool  northwest-wind.  So  there 
lie  these  four  black  swine,  as  deep  among  the  straw  as 
they  can  burrow,  the  very  symbols  of  slothful  ease  and 
sensuous  comfort.  They  seem  to  be  actually  oppressed 
and  overburdened  with  comfort.  They  are  quick  to 
notice  any  one's  approach,  and  utter  a  low  grunt  there 
upon,  —  not  drawing  a  breath  for  that  particular  pur- 
pose,  but  grunting  with  their  ordinary  breath,  —  at 
the  same  time  turning  an  observant,  though  dull  and 
sluggish  eye  upon  the  visitor.  They  seem  to  be  in 


254  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841 

volved  and  buried  in  their  own  corporeal  substance, 
and  to  look  dimly  forth  at  the  outer  world.  They 
breathe  not  easily,  and  yet  not  with  difficulty  nor  dis 
comfort  ;  for  the  very  unreadiness  and  oppression  with 
which  their  breath  comes  appears  to  make  them  sensi 
ble  of  the  deep  sensual  satisfaction  which  they  feel 
Swill,  the  remnant  of  their  last  meal,  remains  in  the 
trough,  denoting  that  their  food  is  more  abundant  than 
even  a  hog  can  demand.  Anon  they  fall  asleep,  draw 
ing  short  and  heavy  breaths,  which  heave  their  huge 
sides  up  and  down ;  but  at  the  slightest  noise  they 
sluggishly  unclose  their  eyes,  and  give  another  gentle 
grunt.  They  also  grunt  among  themselves,  without 
any  external  cause  ;  but  merely  to  express  their  swin 
ish  sympathy.  I  suppose  it  is  the  knowledge  that 
these  four  grunters  are  doomed  to  die  within  two  or 
three  weeks  that  gives  them  a  sort  of  awfulness  in  my 
conception.  It  makes  me  contrast  their  present  gross 
substance  of  fleshly  life  with  the  nothingness  speedily 
to  come.  Meantime  the  four  newly  bought  pigs  are 
running  about  the  cow-yard,  lean,  active,  shrewd,  inves 
tigating  everything,  as  their  nature  is.  When  I  throw 
an  apple  among  them,  they  scramble  with  one  another 
for  the  prize,  and  the  successful  one  scampers  away  to 
eat  it  at  leisure.  They  thrust  their  snouts  into  the 
mud,  and  pick  a  grain  of  corn  out  of  the  rubbish. 
Nothing  within  their  sphere  do  they  leave  unexamined, 
grunting  all  the  time  with  infinite  variety  of  expres 
sion.  Their  language  is  the  most  copious  of  that  of 
any  quadruped,  and,  indeed,  there  is  something  deeply 
and  indefinably  interesting  in  the  swinish  race.  They 
appear  the  more  a  mystery  the  longer  one  gazes  at 
them.  It  seems  as  if  there  were  an  important  mean 
ing  to  them,  if  one  could  but  find  it  out.  One  intej> 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  255 

esting  trait  in  them  is  their  perfect  independence  of 
character.  They  care  not  for  man,  and  will  not  adapt 
themselves  to  his  notions,  as  other  beasts  do  ;  but  are 
true  to  themselves,  and  act  out  their  hoggish  nature. 

October  1th.  —  Since  Saturday  last  (it  being  now 
Thursday),  I  have  been  in  Boston  and  Salem,  and 
there  has  been  a  violent  storm  and  rain  during  the 
whole  time.  This  morning  shone  as  bright  as  if  it 
meant  to  make  up  for  all  the  dismalness  of  the  past 
days.  Our  brook,  which  in  the  summer  was  no  longer 
a  running  stream,  but  stood  in  pools  along  its  pebbly 
course,  is  now  full  from  one  grassy  verge  to  the  other, 
and  hurries  along  with  a  murmuring  rush.  It  will 
continue  to  swell,  I  suppose,  and  in  the  winter  and 
spring  it  will  flood  all  the  broad  meadows  through 
which  it  flows. 

I  have  taken  a  long  walk  this  forenoon  along  the 
Needham  road,  and  across  the  bridge,  thence  pursuing 
a  cross-road  through  the  woods,  parallel  with  the  river, 
which  I  crossed  again  at  Dedham.  Most  of  the  road 
lay  through  a  growth  of  young  oaks  principally.  They 
still  retain  their  verdure,  though,  looking  closely  in 
among  them,  one  perceives  the  broken  sunshine  falling 
on  a  few  sere  or  bright-hued  tufts  of  shrubbery.  In 
low,  marshy  spots,  on  the  verge  of  the  meadows  or 
along  the  river-side,  there  is  a  much  more  marked  au 
tumnal  change.  Whole  ranges  of  bushes  are  there 
painted  with  many  variegated  hues,  not  of  the  bright 
est  tint,  but  of  a  sober  cheerfulness.  I  suppose  this  is 
owing  more  to  the  late  rains  than  to  the  frost;  for  a 
heavy  rain  changes  the  foliage  somewhat  at  this  sea 
son.  The  first  marked  frost  was  seen  last  Saturday 
morning.  Soon  after  sunrise  it  lay,  white  as  snowt 


256  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841. 

over  all  the  grass,  and  on  the  tops  of  the  fences,  and 
in  the  yard,  on  the  heap  of  firewood.  On  Sunday,  I 
think,  there  was  a  fall  of  snow,  which,  however,  did 
not  lie  on  the  ground  a  moment. 

There  is  no  season  when  such  pleasant  and  sunny 
spots  may  be  lighted  on,  and  produce  so  pleasant  an 
effect  on  the  feelings,  as  now  in  October.  The  sun 
shine  is  peculiarly  genial ;  and  in  sheltered  places,  as 
on  the  side  of  a  bank,  or  of  a  barn  or  house,  one  be 
comes  acquainted  and  friendly  with  the  sunshine.  It 
seems  to  be  of  a  kindly  and  homely  nature.  And  the 
green  grass,  strewn  with  a  few  withered  leaves,  looks 
the  more  green  and  beautiful  for  them.  In  summer 
or  spring,  Nature  is  farther  from  one's  sympathies. 

October  8th.  —  Another  gloomy  day,  lowering  with 
portents  of  rain  close  at  hand.  I  have  walked  up  into 
the  pastures  this  morning,  and  looked  about  me  a  lit 
tle.  The  woods  present  a  very  diversified  appearance 
just  now,  with  perhaps  more  varieties  of  tint  than  they 
are  destined  to  wear  at  a  somewhat  later  period. 
There  are  some  strong  yellow  hues,  and  some  deep 
red ;  there  are  innumerable  shades  of  green,  some  few 
having  the  depth  of  summer ;  others,  partially  changed 
towards  yellow,  look  freshly  verdant  with  the  delicate 
tinge  of  early  summer  or  of  May.  Then  there  is  the 
solemn  and  dark  green  of  the  pines.  The  effect  is, 
that  every  tree  in  the  wood  and  every  bush  among  the 
shrubbery  has  a  separate  existence,  since,  confusedly 
intermingled,  each  wears  its  peculiar  color,  instead  of 
being  lost  in  the  universal  emerald  of  summer.  And 
yet  there  is  a  oneness  of  effect  likewise,  when  we 
choose  to  look  at  a  whole  sweep  of  woodland  instead 
of  analyzing  its  component  trees.  Scattered  over  the 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  257 

pasture,  which  the  late  rains  have  kept  tolerably  green, 
there  are  spots  or  islands  of  dusky  red,  —  a  deep,  sub 
stantial  hue,  very  well  fit  to  be  close  to  the  ground,  — " 
while  the  yellow,  and  light,  fantastic  shades  of  green 
soar  upward  to  the  sky.  These  red  spots  are  the  blue 
berry  and  whortleberry  bushes.  The  sweet -fern  is 
changed  mostly  to  russet,  but  still  retains  its  wild  and 
delightful  fragrance  when  pressed  in  the  hand.  Wild 
China  asters  are  scattered  about,  but  beginning  to 
wither.  A  little  while  ago,  mushrooms  or  toadstools 
were  very  numerous  along  the  wood-paths  and  by  the 
roadsides,  especially  after  rain.  Some  were  of  spot 
less  white,  some  yellow,  and  some  scarlet.  They  are 
always  mysteries  and  objects  of  interest  to  me,  spring 
ing  as  they  do  so  suddenly  from  no  root  or  seed,  and 
growing  one  wonders  why.  I  think,  too,  that  some 
varieties  are  pretty  objects,  little  fairy  tables,  centre- 
tables,  standing  on  one  leg.  But  their  growth  appears 
to  be  checked  now,  and  they  are  of  a  brown  tint  and 
decayed. 

The  farm  business  to-day  is  to  dig  potatoes.  I 
worked  a  little  at  it.  The  process  is  to  grasp  all  the 
stems  of  a  hill  and  pull  them  up.  A  great  many  of 
the  potatoes  are  thus  pulled,  clinging  to  the  stems  and 
to  one  another  in  curious  shapes,  —  long  red  things, 
and  little  round  ones,  imbedded  in  the  earth  which 
clings  to  the  roots.  These  being  plucked  off,  the  rest 
of  the  potatoes  are  dug  out  of  the  hill  with  a  hoe,  the 
tops  being  flung  into  a  heap  for  the  cow-yard.  On 
my  way  home,  I  paused  to  inspect  the  squash-field. 
Some  of  the  squashes  lay  in  heaps  as  they  were  gath 
ered,  presenting  much  variety  of  shape  and  hue,  —  as 
golden  yellow,  like  great  lumps  of  gold,  dark  green, 

striped  and  variegated;   and  some  were  round,  and 
VOL.  ix.  17 


258  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841 

some  lay  curling  their  long  necks,  nestling,  as  it  were, 
and  seeming  as  if  they  had  life. 

In  my  walk  yesterday  forenoon  I  passed  an  old 
house  which  seemed  to  be  quite  deserted.  It  was  a 
two-story,  wooden  house,  dark  and  weather  -  beatenc 
The  front  windows,  some  of  them,  were  shattered  and 
open,  and  others  were  boarded  up.  Trees  and  shrub 
bery  were  growing  neglected,  so  as  quite  to  block  up 
the  lower  part.  There  was  an  aged  barn  near  at 
hand,  so  ruinous  that  it  had  been  necessary  to  prop  it 
up.  There  were  two  old  carts,  both  of  which  had  lost 
a  wheel.  Everything  was  in  keeping.  At  first  I  sup 
posed  that  there  would  be  no  inhabitants  in  such  a 
dilapidated  place ;  but,  passing  on,  I  looked  back,  and 
saw  a  decrepit  and  infirm  old  man  at  the  angle  of  the 
house,  its  fit  occupant.  The  grass,  however,  was  very 
green  and  beautiful  around  this  dwelling,  and,  the  sun 
shine  falling  brightly  on  it,  the  whole  effect  was  cheer 
ful  and  pleasant.  It  seemed  as  if  the  world  was  so 
glad  that  this  desolate  old  place,  where  there  was  never 
to  be  any  more  hope  and  happiness,  could  not  at  all 
lessen  the  general  effect  of  joy, 

I  found  a  small  turtle  by  the  roadside,  where  he  had 
crept  to  warm  himself  in  the  genial  sunshine.  He  had 
a  sable  back,  and  underneath  his  shell  was  yellow,  and 
at  the  edges  bright  scarlet.  His  head,  tail,  and  claws 
were  striped  yellow,  black,  and  red.  He  withdrew 
himself  as  far  as  he  possibly  could  into  his  shell,  and 
absolutely  refused  to  peep  out,  even  when  I  put  him 
into  the  water.  Finally,  I  threw  him  into  a  deep  pool 
and  left  him.  These  mailed  gentlemen,  from  the  size 
of  a  foot  or  more  down  to  an  inch,  were  very  numer 
ous  in  the  spring ;  and  now  the  smaller  kind  appeal 
again. 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  259 

/Saturday,  October  §th.  —  Still  dismal  weather. 
Our  household,  being  composed  in  great  measure  of 
children  and  young  people,  is  generally  a  cheerful  one 
enough,  even  in  gloomy  weather.  For  a  week  past  we 
have  been  especially  gladdened  with  a  little  seamstress 
from  Boston,  about  seventeen  years  old ;  but  of  such  a 
petite  figure,  that,  at  first  view,  one  would  take  her  to 
be  hardly  in  her  teens.  She  is  very  vivacious  and 
smart,  laughing  and  singing  and  talking  all  the  time, 
—  talking  sensibly ;  but  still,  taking  the  view  of  mat 
ters  that  a  city  girl  naturally  would.  If  she  were 
larger  than  she  is,  and  of  less  pleasing  aspect,  I  think 
she  might  be  intolerable  ;  but  being  so  small,  and  with 
a  fair  skin,  and  as  healthy  as  a  wild-flower,  she  is 
really  very  agreeable ;  and  to  look  at  her  face  is  like 
being  shone  upon  by  a  ray  of  the  sun.  She  never 
walks,  but  bounds  and  dances  along,  and  this  motion, 
in  her  diminutive  person,  does  not  give  the  idea  of  vio 
lence.  It  is  like  a  bird,  hopping  from  twig  to  twig, 
and  chirping  merrily  all  the  time.  Sometimes  she  is 
rather  vulgar,  but  even  that  works  well  enough  into 
her  character,  and  accords  with  it.  On  continued  ob 
servation,  one  discovers  that  she  is  not  a  little  girl, 
but  really  a  little  woman,  with  all  the  prerogatives  and 
liabilities  of  a  woman.  This  gives  a  new  aspect  to 
her,  while  the  girlish  impression  still  remains,  and  is 
strangely  combined  with  the  sense  that  this  frolicsome 
maiden  has  the  material  for  the  sober  bearing  of  a 
wife.  She  romps  with  the  boys,  runs  races  with  them 
in  the  yard,  and  up  and  down  the  stairs,  and  is  heard 
scolding  laughingly  at  their  rough  play.  She  asks 
William  Allen  to  place  her  "on  top  of  that  horse," 
whereupon  he  puts  his  large  brown  hands  about  her 
waist,  and,  swinging  her  to  and  fro,  lifts  her  on  horse 


AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841. 

back.  William  threatens  to  rivet  two  horseshoes 
round  her  neck,  for  having  clambered,  with  the  other 
girls  and  boys,  upon  a  load  of  hay,  whereby  the  said 
load  lost  its  balance  and  slid  off  the  cart.  She  strings 
the  seed-berries  of  roses  together,  making  a  scarlet 
necklace  of  them,  which  she  fastens  about  her  throat* 
She  gathers  flowers  of  everlasting  to  wear  in  her  bon* 
net,  arranging  them  with  the  skill  of  a  dress-maker. 
In  the  evening,  she  sits  singing  by  the  hour,  with  the 
musical  part  of  the  establishment,  often  breaking  into 
laughter,  whereto  she  is  incited  by  the  tricks  of  the 
boys.  The  last  thing  one  hears  of  her,  she  is  tripping 
up  stairs  to  bed,  talking  lightsomely  or  warbling ;  and 
one  meets  her  in  the  morning,  the  very  image  of  bright 
morn  itself,  smiling  briskly  at  you,  so  that  one  takes 
her  for  a  promise  of  cheerfulness  through  the  day.  Be 
it  said,  with  all  the  rest,  that  there  is  a  perfect  maiden 
modesty  in  her  deportment.  She  has  just  gone  away, 
and  the  last  I  saAv  of  her  was  her  vivacious  face  peep 
ing  through  the  curtain  of  the  cariole,  and  nodding 
a  gay  farewell  to  the  family,  who  were  shouting  their 
adieus^  at  the  door.  With  her  other  merits,  she  is  an 
excellent  daughter,  and  supports  her  mother  by  the  la 
bor  of  her  hands.  It  would  be  difficult  to  conceive 
beforehand  how  much  can  be  added  to  the  enjoyment 
of  a  household  by  mere  sunniness  of  temper  and  live 
liness  of  disposition ;  for  her  intellect  is  very  ordinary, 
and  she  never  says  anything  worth  hearing,  or  even 
laughing  at,  in  itself.  But  she  herself  is  an  expres 
sion  well  worth  studying. 

Brook  Farm,  October  §th.  —  A  walk  this  afternoon 
to  Cow  Island.  The  clouds  had  broken  away  towards 
noon,  and  let  forth  a  few  sunbeams,  and  more  and 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  261 

more  blue  sky  ventured  to  appear,  till  at  last  it  was  re 
ally  warm  and  sunny,  —  indeed,  rather  too  warm  in  the 
sheltered  hollows,  though  it  is  delightful  to  be  too  warm 
now,  after  so  much  stormy  chillness.  Oh  the  beauty  of 
grassy  slopes,  and  the  hollow  ways  of  paths  winding 
between  hills,  and  the  intervals  between  the  road  anJ 
wood-lots,  where  Summer  lingers  and  sits  down,  strew 
ing  dandelions  of  gold,  and  blue  asters,  as  her  parting 
gifts  and  memorials  !  I  went  to  a  grapevine,  which  I 
have  already  visited  several  times,  and  found  some 
clusters  of  grapes  still  remaining,  and  now  perfectly 
ripe.  Coming  within  view  of  the  river,  I  saw  several 
wild  ducks  under  the  shadow  of  the  opposite  shore, 
which  was  high,  and  covered  with  a  grove  of  pines.  I 
should  not  have  discovered  the  ducks  had  they  not 
risen  and  skimmed  the  surface  of  the  glassy  stream, 
breaking  its  dark  water  with  a  bright  streak,  and, 
sweeping  round,  gradually  rose  high  enough  to  fly 
away.  I  likewise  started  a  partridge  just  within  the 
verge  of  the  woods,  and  in  another  place  a  large  squir 
rel  ran  across  the  wood-path  from  one  shelter  of  trees 
to  the  other.  Small  birds,  in  flocks,  were  flitting 
about  the  fields,  seeking  and  finding  I  know  not  what 
sort  of  food.  There  were  little  fish,  also,  darting  in 
shoals  through  the  pools  and  depths  of  the  brooks, 
which  are  now  replenished  to  their  brims,  and  rush 
towards  the  river  with  a  swift,  amber-colored  current. 
Cow  Island  is  not  an  island,  —  at  least,  at  this  sea 
son,  —  though,  I  believe,  in  the  time  of  freshets,  the 
marshy  Charles  floods  the  meadows  all  round  about  it, 
and  extends  across  its  communication  with  the  main 
land.  The  path  to  it  is  a  very  secluded  one,  thread 
ing  a  wood  of  pines,  and  just  wide  enough  to  admit 
the  loads  of  meadow  hiy  which  are  drawn  from  the 


262  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [184L 

splashy  shore  of  the  river.  The  island  has  a  growth 
of  stately  pines,  with  tall  and  ponderous  stems,  stand 
ing  at  distance  enough  to  admit  the  eye  to  travel  far 
among  them ;  and,  as  there  is  no  underbrush,  the 
effect  is  somewhat  like  looking  among  the  pillars  of  a 
church. 

I  returned  home  by  the  high-road.  On  my  right, 
separated  from  the  road  by  a  level  field,  perhaps  fifty 
yards  across,  was  a  range  of  young  forest-trees,  dressed 
in  their  garb  of  autumnal  glory.  The  sun  shone  di 
rectly  upon  them  ;  and  sunlight  is  like  the  breath  of 
life  to  the  pomp  of  autumn.  In  its  absence,  one  doubts 
whether  there  be  any  truth  in  what  poets  have  told 
about  the  splendor  of  an  American  autumn  ;  but  when 
this  charm,  is  added,  one  feels  that  the  effect  is  beyond 
description.  As  I  beheld  it  to-day,  there  was  nothing- 
dazzling  ;  it  was  gentle  and  mild,  though  brilliant  and 
diversified,  and  had  a  most  quiet  and  pensive  influ 
ence.  And  yet  there  were  some  trees  that  seemed 
really  made  of  sunshine,  and  others  were  of  a  sunny 
red,  and  the  whole  picture  was  painted  with  but 
little  relief  of  darksome  hues,  —  only  a  few  ever 
greens.  But  there  was  nothing  inharmonious ;  and, 
on  closer  examination,  it  appeared  that  all  the  tints 
had  a  relationship  among  themselves.  And  this,  I 
suppose,  is  the  reason  that,  while  nature  seems  to  scat- 
ier  them  so  carelessly,  they  still  never  shock  the  be 
holder  by  their  contrasts,  nor  disturb,  but  only  soothe. 
The  brilliant  scarlet  and  the  brilliant  yellow  are  dif 
ferent  hues  of  the  maple-leaves,  and  the  first  changes 
into  the  last.  I  saw  one  maple-tree,  its  centre  yellow 
as  gold,  set  in  a  framework  of  red.  The  native  pop. 
lars  have  different  shades  of  green,  verging  towards 
yellow,  and  are  very  cheerful  in  the  sunshine.  Most 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  263 

of  the  oak-leaves  have  still  the  deep  verdure  of  sum 
mer  ;  but  where  a  change  has  taken  place,  it  is  into  a 
russet-red,  warm,  but  sober.  These  colors,  infinitely 
varied  by  the  progress  which  different  trees  have  made 
in  their  decay,  constitute  almost  the  whole  glory  of 
autumnal  woods  ;  but  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  how 
much  is  done  with  such  scanty  materials.  In  my 
whole  walk  I  saw  only  one  man,  and  he  was  at  a  dis 
tance,  in  the  obscurity  of  the  trees.  He  had  a  horse 
and  a  wagon,  and  was  getting  a  load  of  dry  brush 
wood. 

Sunday,  October  10th.  —  I  visited  my  grapevine 
this  afternoon,  and  ate  the  last  of  its  clusters.  This 
vine  climbs  around  a  young  maple-tree,  which  has  now 
assumed  the  yellow  leaf.  The  leaves  of  the  vine  are 
more  decayed  than  those  of  the  maple.  Thence  to 
Cow  Island,  a  solemn  and  thoughtful  walk.  Returned 
by  another  path,  of  the  width  of  a  wagon,  passing 
through  a  grove  of  hard  wood,  the  lightsome  hues  of 
which  make  the  walk  more  cheerful  than  among  the 
pines.  The  roots  of  oaks  emerged  from  the  soil,  and 
contorted  themselves  across  the  path.  The  sunlight, 
also,  broke  across  in  spots,  and  otherwheres  the  shadow 
was  deep ;  but  still  there  was  intermingling  enough 
o£  bright  hues  to  keep  off  the  gloom  from  the  whole 
path. 

Brooks  and  pools  have  a  peculiar  aspect  at  this  sea 
son.  One  knows  that  the  water  must  be  cold,  and  one 
shivers  a  little  at  the  sight  of  it ;  and  yet  the  grass 
about  the  pool  may  be  of  the  deepest  green,  and  the 
sun  may  be  shining  into  it  The  withered  leaves 
which  overhanging  trees  shed  upon  its  surface  contril> 
ute  much  to  the  effect. 


264  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841, 

Insects  have  mostly  vanished  in  the  fields  and 
woods.  I  hear  locusts  yet,  singing  in  the  sunny  hours, 
and  crickets  have  not  yet  finished  their  song.  Once 
in  a  while  I  see  a  caterpillar,  —  this  afternoon,  for 
instance,  a  red,  hairy  one,  with  black  head  and  tail. 
They  do  not  appear  to  be  active,  and  it  makes  one 
rather  melancholy  to  look  at  them. 

Tuesday,  October  ~L2th.  —  The  cawing  of  the  crow 
resounds  among  the  woods.  A  sentinel  is  aware  of 
your  approach  a  great  way  off,  and  gives  the  alarm  to 
his  comrades  loudly  and  eagerly,  —  Caw,  caw,  caw  1 
Immediately  the  whole  conclave  replies,  and  you  be 
hold  them  rising  above  the  trees,  flapping  darkly,  and 
winging  their  way  to  deeper  solitudes.  Sometimes, 
however,  they  remain  till  you  come  near  enough  to 
discern  their  sable  gravity  of  aspect,  each  occupying  a 
separate  bough,  or  perhaps  the  blasted  tip-top  of  a 
pine.  As  you  approach,  one  after  another,  with  loud 
cawing,  flaps  his  wings  and  throws  himself  upon  the 
air. 

There  is  hardly  a  more  striking  feature  in  the  land 
scape  nowadays  than  the  red  patches  of  blueberry  and 
whortleberry  bushes,  as  seen  on  a  sloping  hill-side,  like 
islands  among  the  grass,  with  trees  growing  in  them  ; 
or  crowning  the  summit  of  a  bare,  brown  hill  with 
their  somewhat  russet  liveliness;  or  circling  round  the 
base  of  an  earth-imbedded  rock.  At  a  distance,  tin's 
hue,  clothing  spots  and  patches  of  the  earth,  looks 
more  like  a  picture  than  anything  else,  —  yet  such  a 
picture  as  I  never  saw  painted. 

The  oaks  are  now  beginning  to  look  sere,  and  their 
leaves  have  withered  borders.  It  is  pleasant  to  notice 
the  wide  circle  of  greener  grass  beneath  the  circumfer- 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  265 

ence  of  an  overshadowing  oak.  Passing  an  orchard, 
one  hears  an  uneasy  rustling  in  the  trees,  and  not  as 
if  they  were  struggling  with  the  wind.  Scattered 
about  are  barrels  to  contain  the  gathered  apples  ;  and 
perhaps  a  great  heap  of  golden  or  scarlet  apples  is  col 
lected  in  one  place. 

Wednesday,  October  13^.  —  A  good  view,  from  an 
upland  swell  of  our  pasture,  across  the  valley  of  the 
river  Charles.  There  is  the  meadow,  as  level  as  a 
floor,  and  carpeted  with  green,  perhaps  two  miles 
from  the  rising  ground  on  this  side  of  the  river  to 
that  on  the  opposite  side.  The  stream  winds  through 
the  midst  of  the  flat  space,  without  any  banks  at  all ; 
for  it  fills  its  bed  almost  to  the  brim,  and  bathes  the 
meadow  grass  on  either  side.  A  tuft  of  shrubbery,  at 
broken  intervals,  is  scattered  along  its  border;  and 
thus  it  meanders  sluggishly  along,  without  other  life 
than  what  it  gains  from  gleaming  in  the  sun.  Now, 
into  the  broad,  smooth  meadow,  as  into  a  lake,  capes 
and  headlands  put  themselves  forth,  and  shores  of 
firm  woodland  border  it,  covered  with  variegated  foli 
age,  making  the  contrast  so  much  the  stronger  of  their 
height  and  rough  outline  with  the  even  spread  of  the 
plain.  And  beyond,  and  far  away,  rises  a  long,  grad 
ual  swell  of  country,  covered  with  an  apparently  dense 
growth  of  foliage  for  miles,  till  the  horizon  terminates 
it ;  and  here  and  there  is  a  house,  or  perhaps  two, 
among  the  contiguity  of  trees.  Everywhere  the  trees 
wear  their  autumnal  dress,  so  that  the  whole  land 
scape  is  red,  russet,  orange,  and  yellow,  blending  in 
the  distance  into  a  rich  tint  of  brown-orange,  or  nearly 
that,  —  except  the  green  expanse  so  definitely  hemmed 
in  by  the  higher  ground. 


266  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [184L 

I  took  a  long  walk  this  morning,  going  first  nearly 
to  Newton,  thence  nearly  to  Brighton,  thence  to  Ja 
maica  Plain,  and  thence  home.  It  was  a  fine  morn 
ing,  with  a  northwest-wind  ;  cool  when  facing  the 
wind,  but  warm  and  most  genially  pleasant  in  shel 
tered  spots  ;  and  warm  enough  everywhere  while  I 
was  in  motion.  I  traversed  most  of  the  by-ways 
which  offered  themselves  to  me ;  and,  passing  through 
one  in  which  there  was  a  double  line  of  grass  between 
the  wheel-tracks  and  that  of  the  horses'  feet,  I  came 
to  where  had  once  stood  a  farmhouse,  which  appeared 
to  have  been  recently  torn  down.  Most  of  the  old 
timber  and  boards  had  been  carted  away  ;  a  pile  of  it, 
however,  remained.  The  cellar  of  the  house  was  un 
covered,  and  beside  it  stood  the  base  and  middle 
height  of  the  chimney.  The  oven,  in  which  house 
hold  bread  had  been  baked  for  daily  food,  and  pud 
dings  and  cake  and  jolly  pumpkin-pies  for  festivals, 
opened  its  mouth,  being  deprived  of  its  iron  door. 
The  fireplace  was  close  at  hand.  All  round  the  site 
of  the  house  was  a  pleasant,  sunny,  green  space,  with 
old  fruit-trees  in  pretty  fair  condition,  though  aged. 
There  was  a  barn,  also  aged,  but  in  decent  repair ; 
and  a  ruinous  shed,  on  the  corner  of  which  was  nailed 
a  boy's  windmill,  where  it  had  probably  been  turning 
and  clattering  for  years  together,  till  now  it  was  black 
with  time  and  weather-stain.  It  was  broken,  but  still 
it  went  round  whenever  the  wind  stirred.  The  spot 
was  entirely  secluded,  there  being  no  other  house  with 
in  a  mile  or  two. 

No  language  can  give  an  idea  of  the  beauty  and 
glory  of  the  trees,  just  at  this  moment.  It  would  be 
easy,  by  a  process  of  word-daubing,  to  set  down  a 
confused  group  of  gorgeous  colors,  like  a  bunch  of 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  267 

tangled  skeins  of  bright  silk ;  but  there  is  nothing  of 
the  reality  in  the  glare  which  would  thus  be  produced. 
And  yet  the  splendor  both  of  individual  clusters  and 
of  whole  scenes  is  unsurpassable.  The  oaks  are  now 
far  advanced  in  their  change  of  hue ;  and,  in  certain 
positions  relatively  to  the  sun,  they  light  up  and  glean:, 
with  a  most  magnificent  deep  gold,  varying  according 
as  portions  of  the  foliage  are  in  shadow  or  sunlight. 
On  the  sides  which  receive  the  direct  rays,  the  effect 
is  altogether  rich ;  and  in  other  points  of  view  it  is 
equally  beautiful,  if  less  brilliant.  This  color  of  the 
oak  is  more  superb  than  the  lighter  yellow  of  the  ma- 
pies  and  walnuts.  The  whole  landscape  is  now  cov 
ered  with  this  indescribable  pomp  ;  it  is  discerned  on 
the  uplands  afar  off ;  and  Blue  Hill  in  Milton,  at  the 
distance  of  several  miles,  actually  glistens  with  rich, 
dark  light,  —  no,  not  glistens,  nor  gleams,  —  but  per 
haps  to  say  glows  subduedly  will  be  a  truer  expression 
for  it. 

Met  few  people  this  morning ;  a  grown  girl,  in  com 
pany  with  a  little  boy,  gathering  barberries  in  a  se 
cluded  lane;  a  portly,  autumnal  gentleman,  wrapped 
in  a  great-coat,  who  asked  the  way  to  Mr.  Joseph  God- 
dard's  ;  and  a  fish-cart  from  the  city,  the  driver  of 
which  sounded  his  horn  along  the  lonesome  way. 

Monday,  October  ~L8th.  —  There  has  been  a  succes 
sion  of  days  which  were  cold  and  bright  in  the  fore 
noon,  and  gray,  sullen,  and  chill  towards  night.  The 
woods  have  now  taken  a  soberer  tint  than  they  wore 
at  my  last  date.  Many  of  the  shrubs  which  looked 
brightest  a  little  while  ago  are  now  wholly  bare  of 
leaves.  The  oaks  have  generally  a  russet-brown  shade, 
although  some  of  them  are  still  green,  as  are  likewise 


268  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841 

other  scattered  trees  in  the  forests.  The  bright  yel 
low  and  the  rich  scarlet  are  no  more  to  be  seen. 
Scarcely  any  of  them  will  now  bear  a  close  examina 
tion  :  for  this  shows  them  to  be  rugged,  wilted,  and  of 
faded,  frost-bitten  hue ;  but  at  a  distance,  and  in  the 
mass,  and  enlivened  by  the  sun,  they  have  still  some 
what  of  the  varied  splendor  which  distinguished  them  a 
week  ago.  It  is  wonderful  what  a  difference  the  sun 
shine  makes ;  it  is  like  varnish,  bringing  out  the  hid 
den  veins  in  a  piece  of  rich  wood.  In  the  cold,  gray 
atmosphere,  such  as  that  of  most  of  our  afternoons 
now,  the  landscape  lies  dark,  —  brown,  and  in  a  much 
deeper  shadow  than  if  it  were  clothed  in  green.  But, 
perchance,  a  gleam  of  sun  falls  on  a  certain  spot  of 
distant  shrubbery  or  woodland,  and  we  see  it  brighten 
with  many  hues,  standing  forth  prominently  from  the 
dimness  around  it.  The  sunlight  gradually  spreads, 
and  the  whole  sombre  scene  is  changed  to  a  motley 
picture,  —  the  sun  bringing  out  many  shades  of  color, 
and  converting  its  gloom  to  an  almost  laughing  cheer 
fulness.  At  such  times  I  almost  doubt  whether  the 
foliage  has  lost  any  of  its  brilliancy.  But  the  clouds 
intercept  the  sun  again,  and  lo !  old  Autumn  appears, 
clad  in  his  cloak  of  russet-brown. 

Beautiful  now,  while  the  general  landscape  lies  in 
shadow,  looks  the  summit  of  a  distant  hill  (say  a  mile 
off),  with  the  sunshine  brightening  the  trees  that  cover 
it.  It  is  noticeable  that  the  outlines  of  hills,  and  the 
whole  bulk  of  them  at  the  distance  of  several  miles, 
become  stronger,  denser,  and  more  substantial  in  this 
autumn  atmosphere  and  in  these  autumnal  tints  than 
in  summer.  Then  they  looked  blue,  misty,  and  dim. 
Now  they  show  their  great  humpbacks  more  plainly, 
as  if  they  had  drawn  nearer  to  us. 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  269 

A  waste  of  shrubbery  and  small  trees,  such  as  over 
runs  the  borders  of  the  meadows  for  miles  together, 
looks  much  more  rugged,  wild,  and  savage  in  its  pres 
ent  brown  color  than  when  clad  in  green. 

I  passed  through  a  very  pleasant  wood-path  yester 
day,  quite  shut  in  and  sheltered  by  trees  that  had  not 
thrown  off  their  yellow  robes.  The  sun  shone  strongly 
in  among  them,  and  quite  kindled  them  ;  so  that  the 
path  was  brighter  for  their  shade  than  if  it  had  been 
quite  exposed  to  the  sun. 

In  the  village  graveyard,  which  lies  contiguous  to 
the  street,  I  saw  a  man  digging  a  grave,  and  one  in 
habitant  after  another  turned  aside  from  his  way  to 
look  into  the  grave  and  talk  with  the  digger.  I  heard 
him  laugh,  with  the  traditionary  mirthf  ulness  of  men 
of  that  occupation. 

In  the  hollow  of  the  woods,  yesterday  afternoon,  I 
lay  a  long  while  watching  a  squirrel,  who  was  capering 
about  among  the  trees  over  my  head  (oaks  and  white- 
pines,  so  close  together  that  their  branches  intermin 
gled).  The  squirrel  seemed  not  to  approve  of  my 
presence,  for  he  frequently  uttered  a  sharp,  quick,  an 
gry  noise,  like  that  of  a  scissors  -  grinder's  wheel. 
Sometimes  I  could  see  him  sitting  on  an  impending 
bough,  with  his  tail  over  his  back,  looking  down  pry- 
ingly  upon  me.  It  seems  to  be  a  natural  posture  with 
him,  to  sit  on  his  hind  legs,  holding  up  his  fore  paws. 
Anon,  with  a  peculiarly  quick  start,  he  would  scram 
ble  along  the  branch,  and  be  lost  to  sight  in  another 
part  of  the  tree,  whence  his  shrill  chatter  would  again 
be  heard.  Then  I  would  see  him  rapidly  descending 
the  trunk,  and  running  along  the  ground  ;  and  a  mo 
ment  afterwards,  casting  my  eye  upward,  I  beheld  him 
flitting  like  a  bird  among  the  high  limbs  at  the  sum- 


270  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841 

mit,  directly  above  me.  Afterwards,  he  apparently 
became  accustomed  to  my  society,  and  set  about  some 
business  of  his  own.  He  came  down  to  the  ground, 
took  up  a  piece  of  a  decayed  bough  (a  heavy  burden 
for  such  a  small  personage),  and,  with  this  in  his 
mouth,  again  climbed  up  and  passed  from  the  branches 
of  one  tree  to  those  of  another,  and  thus  onward  and 
onward  till  he  went  out  of  sight.  Shortly  afterwards 
he  returned  for  another  burden,  and  this  he  repeated 
several  times.  I  suppose  he  was  building  a  nest,  —  at 
least,  I  know  not  what  else  could  have  been  his  object. 
Never  was  there  such  an  active,  cheerful,  choleric,  con- 
tinually-in-motion  fellow  as  this  little  red  squirrel,  talk 
ing  to  himself,  chattering  at  me,  and  as  sociable  in  his 
own  person  as  if  he  had  half  a  dozen  companions,  in 
stead  of  being  alone  in  the  lonesome  wood.  Indeed, 
he  flitted  about  so  quickly,  and  showed  himself  in  dif 
ferent  places  so  suddenly,  that  I  was  in  some  doubt 
whether  there  were  not  two  or  three  of  them. 

I  must  mention  again  the  very  beautiful  effect  pro 
duced  by  the  masses  of  berry-bushes,  lying  like  scarlet 
islands  in  the  midst  of  withered  pasture-ground,  or 
crowning  the  tops  of  barren  hills.  Their  hue,  at  a  dis 
tance,  is  lustrous  scarlet,  although  it  does  not  look 
nearly  as  bright  and  gorgeous  when  examined  close  at 
hand.  But  at  a  proper  distance  it  is  a  beautiful  fringe 
on  Autumn's  petticoat. 

Friday,  October  22d.  —  A  continued  succession  of 
unpleasant,  Novembery  days,  and  autumn  has  made 
rapid  progress  in  the  work  of  decay.  It  is  now  some 
what  of  a  rare  good  fortune  to  find  a  verdant,  grassy 
spot,  on  some  slope,  or  in  a  dell ;  and  even  such  sel 
dom-seen  oases  are  bestrewn  with  dried  brown  leaves, 


1841.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  271 

—  which,  however,  methinks,  make  the  short,  fresh 
grass  look  greener  around  them.  Dry  leaves  are  now 
plentiful  everywhere,  save  where  there  are  none  but 
pine-trees.  They  rustle  beneath  the  tread,  and  there 
is  nothing  more  autumnal  than  that  sound.  Never 
theless,  in  a  walk  this  afternoon,  I  have  seen  two 
oaks  which  retained  almost  the  greenness  of  summer. 
They  grew  close  to  the  huge  Pulpit  Rock,  so  that  por 
tions  of  their  trunks  appeared  to  grasp  the  rough  sur 
face  ;  and  they  were  rooted  beneath  it,  and,  ascending 
high  into  the  air,  overshadowed  the  gray  crag  with 
verdure.  Other  oaks,  here  and  there,  have  a  few 
green  leaves  or  boughs  among  their  rustling  and  rug 
ged  shade. 

Yet,  dreary  as  the  woods  are  in  a  bleak,  sullen  day, 
there  is  a  very  peculiar  sense  of  warmth  and  a  sort  of 
richness  of  effect  in  the  slope  of  a  bank  and  in  shel 
tered  spots,  where  bright  sunshine  falls,  and  the  brown 
oaken  foliage  is  gladdened  by  it.  There  is  then  a 
feeling  of  comfort,  and  consequently  of  heart-warmth, 
which  cannot  be  experienced  in  summer. 

I  walked  this  afternoon  along  a  pleasant  wood-path, 
gently  winding,  so  that  but  little  of  it  could  be  seen 
at  a  time,  and  going  up  and  down  small  mounds,  now 
plunging  into  a  denser  shadow,  and  now  emerging 
from  it.  Part  of  the  way  it  was  strewn  with  the  dusky, 
yellow  leaves  of  white -pines,  —  the  cast-off  garments 
of  last  year ;  part  of  the  way  with  green  grass,  close- 
cropped,  and  very  fresh  for  the  season.  Sometimes 
the  trees  met  across  it ;  sometimes  it  was  bordered  on 
one  side  by  an  old  rail  -  fence  of  moss  -  grown  cedar, 
with  bushes  sprouting  beneath  it,  and  thrusting  their 
branches  through  it ;  sometimes  by  a  stone-wall  of  un 
known  antiquity,  older  than  the  wood  it  closed  in.  A 


272  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842. 

stone-wall,  when  shrubbery  has  grown  around  it,  and 
thrust  its  roots  beneath  it,  becomes  a  very  pleasant 
and  meditative  object.  It  does  not  belong  too  evi 
dently  to  man,  having  been  built  so  long  ago.  It 
seems  a  part  of  nature. 

Yesterday  I  found  two  mushrooms  in  the  woods, 
probably  of  the  preceding  night's  growth.  Also  I  saw 
a  mosquito,  frost-pinched,  and  so  wretched  that  I  felt 
avenged  for  all  the  injuries  which  his  tribe  inflicted 
upon  me  last  summer,  and  so  did  not  molest  this  lone 
survivor. 

Walnuts  in  their  green  rinds  are  falling  from  the 
trees,  and  so  are  chestnut-burrs. 

I  found  a  maple-leaf  to-day,  yellow  all  over,  except 
its  extremest  point,  which  was  bright  scarlet.  It 
looked  as  if  a  drop  of  blood  were  hanging  from  it. 
The  first  change  of  the  maple-leaf  is  to  scarlet ;  the 
next,  to  yellow.  Then  it  withers,  wilts,  and  drops  off, 
as  most  of  them  have  already  done. 

October  27th.  —  Fringed  gentians,  —  I  found  the 
last,  probably,  that  will  be  seen  this  year,  growing  on 
the  margin  of  the  brook. 

1842.  —  Some  man  of  powerful  character  to  com 
mand  a  person,  morally  subjected  to  him,  to  perform 
some  act.  The  commanding  person  suddenly  to  die  ; 
and,  for  all  the  rest  of  his  life,  the  subjected  one  con 
tinues  to  perform  that  act. 

"  Solomon  dies  during  the  building  of  the  temple, 
but  his  body  remains  leaning  on  a  staff,  and  overlook 
ing  the  workmen,  as  if  it  were  alive." 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  273 

A  tri-  weekly  paper,  to  be  called  the  Tertian  Ague. 

Subject  for  a  picture,  —  Satan's  reappearance  in 
Pandemonium,  shining  out  from  a  mist  with  "  shape 
star-bright." 

Five  points  of  Theology,  —  Five  Points  at  Ne\v 
York. 

It  seems  a  greater  pity  that  an  accomplished  worker 
with  the  hand  should  perish  prematurely,  than  a  per 
son  of  great  intellect ;  because  intellectual  arts  may  be 
cultivated  in  the  next  world,  but  not  physical  ones. 

To  trace  out  the  influence  of  a  frightful  and  dis 
graceful  crime  in  debasing  and  destroying  a  character 
naturally  high  and  noble,  the  guilty  person  being  alone 
conscious  of  the  crime. 

A  man,  virtuous  in  his  general  conduct,  but  com 
mitting  habitually  some  monstrous  crime,  —  as  mur 
der,  —  and  doing  this  without  the  sense  of  guilt,  but 
with  a  peaceful  conscience,  —  habit,  probably,  recon 
ciling  him  to  it ;  but  something  (for  instance,  discov 
ery)  occurs  to  make  him  sensible  of  his  enormity. 
His  horror  then. 

The  strangeness,  if  they  could  be  foreseen  and  fore 
thought,  of  events  which  do  not  seem  so  strange  after 
they  have  happened.  As,  for  instance,  to  muse  over  a 
child's  cradle,  and  foresee  all  the  persons  in  different 
parts  of  the  world  with  whom  he  would  have  rela 
tions. 

VOL.  ix.  18 


274  AMERICAN-  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842 

A  man  to  swallow  a  small  snake,  • —  and  it  to  be  a 
symbol  of  a  cherished  sin. 

Questions  as  to  unsettled  points  of  history,  and  mys 
teries  of  nature,  to  be  asked  of  a  mesmerized  person. 

Gordier,  a  young  man  of  the  Island  of  Jersej^,  was 
paying  his  addresses  to  a  young  lady  of  Guernsey. 
He  visited  the  latter  island,  intending  to  be  married. 
He  disappeared  on  his  way  from  the  beach  to  his  mis 
tress's  residence,  and  was  afterwards  found  dead  in  a 
cavity  of  the  rocks.  After  a  time,  Galliard,  a  mer 
chant  of  Guernsey,  paid  his  addresses  to  the  young 
lady ;  but  she  always  felt  a  strong,  unaccountable  an 
tipathy  to  him.  He  presented  her  with  a  beautiful 
trinket.  The  mother  of  Gordier,  chancing  to  see  this 
trinket,  recognized  it  as  having  been  bought  by  her 
dead  son  as  a  present  for  his  mistress.  She  expired 
on  learning  this ;  and  Galliard,  being  suspected  of  the 
murder,  committed  suicide. 

The  cur£  of  Montreux  in  Switzerland,  ninety -six 
years  old,  still  vigorous  in  mind  and  body,  and  able  to 
preach.  He  had  a  twin-brother,  also  a  preacher,  and 
the  exact  likeness  of  himself.  Sometimes  strangers 
have  beheld  a  white-haired,  venerable,  clerical  person 
age,  nearly  a  century  old;  and,  upon  riding  a  few 
miles  farther,  have  been  astonished  to  meet  again  this 
white-haired,  venerable,  century-old  personage. 

When  the  body  of  Lord  Mohun  (killed  in  a  duel) 
was  carried  home,  bleeding,  to  his  house,  Lady  Mohun 
was  very  angry  because  it  was  "  flung  upon  the  best 
bed." 


1842. ]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  275 

A  prophecy,  somewhat  in  the  style  of  Swift's  about 
Partridge,  but  embracing  various  events  and  person 
ages. 

An  incident  that  befell  Dr.  Harris,  while  a  Junior 
at  college.  Being  in  great  want  of  money  to  buy  shirts 
or  other  necessaries,  and  not  knowing  how  to  obtain  it, 
he  set  out  on  a  walk  from  Cambridge  to  Boston.  On 
the  way  he  cut  a  stick,  and,  after  walking  a  short  dis 
tance,  perceived  that  something  had  become  attached 
to  the  end  of  it.  It  proved  to  be  a  gold  ring,  with  the 
motto,  "  God  speed  thee,  friend." 

Brobdingnag  lay  on  the  northwest  coast  of  the 
American  continent. 

A  gush  of  violets  along  a  wood-path. 

People  with  false  hair  and  other  artifices  may  be 
supposed  to  deceive  Death  himself,  so  that  he  does  not 
know  when  their  hour  is  come. 

Bees  are  sometimes  drowned  (or  suffocated)  in  the 
honey  which  they  collect.  So  some  writers  are  lost  in 
their  collected  learning. 

Advice  of  Lady  Pepper  ell's  father  on  her  marriage, 

—  never  to  work  one  moment  after  Saturday  sunset, 

—  never  to  lay  down  her  knitting  except  in  the  middle 
of  the  needle,  —  always  to  rise  with  the  sun,  —  to  pass 
an  hour  daily  with  the  housekeeper,  —  to  visit  every 
room  daily  from  garret  to  cellar,  —  to  attend  herself 
to  the  brewing  of  beer  and  the  baking  of  bread,  —  and 
to  instruct  every  member  of  the  family  in  their  relig 
lous  duties. 


276  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842. 

Service  of  plate,  presented  by  the  city  of  London  ta 
Sir  William  Pepperell,  together  with  a  table  of  solid 
silver.  The  table  very  narrow,  but  long  ;  the  articles 
of  plate  numerous,  but  of  small  dimensions,  —  the 
tureen  not  holding  more  than  three  pints.  At  the 
close  of  the  Revolution,  when  the  Pepperell  and  Spar- 
hawk  property  was  confiscated,  this  plate  was  sen* 
to  the  grandson  of  Sir  William,  in  London.  It  was 
so  valuable,  that  Sheriff  Moulton,  of  old  York,  with 
six  well-armed  men,  accompanied  it  to  Boston.  Pep- 
perell's  only  daughter  married  Colonel  Sparhawk,  a 
fine  gentleman  of  the  day.  Andrew  Pepperell,  the 
son,  was  rejected  by  a  young  lady  (afterwards  the 
mother  of  Mrs.  General  Knox),  to  whom  he  was  on 
the  point  of  marriage,  as  being  addicted  to  low  com 
pany  and  low  pleasures.  The  lover,  two  days  after 
wards,  in  the  streets  of  Portsmouth,  was  sun-struck, 
and  fell  down  dead.  Sir  William  had  built  an  ele 
gant  house  for  his  son  and  his  intended  wife  ;  but  af 
ter  the  death  of  the  former  he  never  entered  it.  He 
lost  his  cheerfulness  and  social  qualities,  and  gave  up 
intercourse  with  people,  except  on  business.  Very 
anxious  to  secure  his  property  to  his  descendants  by 
the  provisions  of  his  will,  which  was  drawn  up  by 
Judge  Sewall,  then  a  young  lawyer.  Yet  the  Judge 
lived  to  see  two  of  Sir  William's  grandchildren  so  re 
duced  that  they  were  to  have  been  numbered  among 
the  town's  poor,  and  were  only  rescued  from  this  fate 
by  private  charity. 

The  arms  and  crest  of  the  Pepperell  family  were 
displayed  over  the  door  of  every  room  in  Sir  William's 
house.  In  Colonel  Sparhawk's  house  there  were  forty 
portraits,  most  of  them  in  full  length.  The  house 
built  for  Sir  William's  son  was  occupied  as  barracks 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  277 

during  the  Revolution,  and  much  injured.  A  few 
years  after  the  peace,  it  was  blown  down  by  a  violent 
tempest,  and  finally  no  vestige  of  it  was  left,  but  there 
remained  only  a  summer-house  and  the  family  tomb. 

At  Sir  William's  death,  his  mansion  was  hung  with 
black,  while  the  body  lay  in  state  for  a  week.  All 
the  Sparhawk  portraits  were  covered  with  black  crape, 
and  the  family  pew  was  draped  with  black.  Two  oxen 
were  roasted,  and  liquid  hospitality  dispensed  in  pro 
portion. 

Old  lady's  dress  seventy  or  eighty  years  ago. 
Brown  brocade  gown,  with  a  nice  lawn  handkerchief 
and  apron,  —  short  sleeves,  with  a  little  ruffle,  just  be 
low  the  elbow,  —  black  mittens,  —  a  lawn  cap,  with 
rich  lace  border,  —  a  black  velvet  hood  on  the  back  of 
the  head,  tied  with  black  ribbon  under  the  chin.  She 
sat  in  an  old-fashioned  easy-chair,  in  a  small,  low  par 
lor,  —  the  wainscot  painted  entirely  black,  and  the 
walls  hung  with  a  dark  velvet  paper. 

A  table,  stationary  ever  since  the  house  was  built, 
extending  the  whole  length  of  a  room.  One  end  was 
raised  two  steps  higher  than  the  rest.  The  Lady  Ur 
sula,  an  early  Colonial  heroine,  was  wont  to  dine  at 
the  upper  end,  while  her  servants  sat  below.  This  was 
in  the  kitchen.  An  old  garden  and  summer-house, 
and  roses,  currant-bushes,  and  tulips,  which  Lady  Ur 
sula  had  brought  from  Grondale  Abbey,  in  Old  Eng 
land.  Although  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  before, 
and  though  their  roots  were  propagated  all  over  the 
country,  they  were  still  flourishing  in  the  original  gar 
den.  This  Lady  Ursula  was  the  daughter  of  Lord 
Thomas  Cutts,  of  Grondale  Abbey,  in  England.  She 
had  been  in  love  with  an  officer  named  Fowler,  who 


278  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842. 

was  supposed  to  have  been  slain  in  battle.  After  the 
death  of  her  father  and  mother,  Lady  Ursula  came  to 
Kittery,  bringing  twenty  men  -  servants  and  several 
women.  After  a  time,  a  letter  arrived  from  her  lover, 
who  was  not  killed,  but  merely  a  prisoner  to  the 
French.  He  announced  his  purpose  to  come  to  Amer 
ica,  where  he  would  arrive  in  October.  A  few  days 
after  the  letter  came,  she  went  out  in  a  low  carriage 
to  visit  her  work-people,  and  was  blessing  the  food  for 
their  luncheon,  when  she  fell  dead,  struck  by  an  In 
dian  tomahawk,  as  did  all  the  rest  save  one.  They 
were  buried  where  the  massacre  took  place,  and  a 
stone  was  erected,  which  (possibly)  still  remains. 
The  lady's  family  had  a  grant  from  Sir  Ferdinando 
Gorges  of  the  territory  thereabout,  and  her  brother 
had  likewise  come  over  and  settled  in  the  vicinity.  I 
believe  very  little  of  this  story.  Long  afterwards,  at 
about  the  commencement  of  the  Revolution,  a  descend 
ant  of  Fowler  came  from  England,  and  applied  to  the 
Judge  of  Probate  to  search  the  records  for  a  will,  sup 
posed  to  have  been  made  by  Lady  Ursula  in  favor  of 
her  lover  as  soon  as  she  heard  of  his  existence.  In 
the  mean  time  the  estate  had  been  sold  to  Colonel 
Whipple.  No  will  could  be  found.  (Lady  Ursula 
was  old  Mrs.  Cutts,  widow  of  President  Cutts.) 

The  mode  of  living  of  Lady  Ursula's  brother  in 
Kittery.  A  drawbridge  to  the  house,  which  was  raised 
every  evening,  and  lowered  in  the  morning,  for  the 
laborers  and  the  family  to  pass  out.  They  kept  thirty 
cows,  a  hundred  sheep,  and  several  horses.  The  house 
spacious,  —  one  room  large  enough  to  contain  forty 
or  fifty  guests.  Two  silver  branches  for  candles, — 
the  walls  ornamented  with  paintings  and  needlework. 
The  floors  were  daily  rubbed  with  wax,  and  shone 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  279 

like  a  mahogany  table.  A  domestic  chaplain,  who  said 
prayers  every  morning  and  evening  in  a  small  apart 
ment  called  the  chapel.  Also  a  steward  and  butler. 
The  family  attended  the  Episcopal  Church  at  Christ 
mas,  Easter,  and  Good  Friday,  and  gave  a  grand  en 
tertainment  once  a  year. 

Madam  Cutts,  at  the  last  of  these  entertainments, 
wore  a  black  damask  gown,  and  cuffs  with  double  lace 
ruffles,  velvet  shoes,  blue  silk  stockings,  white  and  sil 
ver  stomacher.  The  daughter  and  granddaughters  in 
rich  brocades  and  yellow  satin.  Old  Major  Cutts  in 
brown  velvet,  laced  with  gold,  and  a  large  wig.  The 
parson  in  his  silk  cassock,  and  his  helpmate  in  brown 
damask.  Old  General  Atkinson  in  scarlet  velvet,  and 
his  wife  and  daughters  in  white  damask.  The  Gov 
ernor  in  black  velvet,  and  his  lady  in  crimson  tabby 
trimmed  with  silver.  The  ladies  wore  bell-hoops,  high- 
heeled  shoes,  paste  buckles,  silk  stockings,  and  enor 
mously  high  head-dresses,  with  lappets  of  Brussels  lace 
hanging  thence  to  the  waist. 

Among  the  eatables,  a  silver  tub  of  the  capacity  of 
four  gallons,  holding  a  pyramid  of  pancakes  powdered 
with  white  sugar. 

The  date  assigned  to  all  this  about  1690. 

What  is  the  price  of  a  day's  labor  in  Lapland, 
where  the  sun  never  sets  for  six  months  ? 

Miss  Asphyxia  Davis  I 

A  life,  generally  of  a  grave  hue,  may  be  said  to  be 
embroidered  with  occasional  sports  and  fantasies. 

A  father  confessor,  —  Ms  reflections  on  character 


280  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842< 

and  the  contrast  of  the  inward  man  with  the  outward, 
as  he  looks  around  on  his  congregation,  all  whose  se 
cret  sins  are  known  to  him. 

A  person  with  an  ice-cold  hand,  —  his  right  hand, 
which  people  ever  afterwards  remember  when  once 
*;hey  have  grasped  it. 

A  stove  possessed  by  a  Devil. 

June,  ls£,  1842.  —  One  of  my  chief  amusements  is 
to  see  the  boys  sail  their  miniature  vessels  on  the  Frog 
Pond.  There  is  a  great  variety  of  shipping  owned 
among  the  young  people,  and  they  appear  to  have  a 
considerable  knowledge  of  the  art  of  managing  vessels. 
There  is  a  full -rigged  man-of-war,  with,  I  believe, 
every  spar,  rope,  and  sail,  that  sometimes  makes  its 
appearance ;  and,  when  on  a  voyage  across  the  pond, 
it  so  identically  resembles  a  great  ship,  except  in  size, 
that  it  has  the  effect  of  a  picture.  All  its  motions,  — 
its  tossing  up  and  down  on  the  small  waves,  and  its 
sinking  and  rising  in  a  calm  swell,  its  heeling  to  the 
breeze,  —  the  whole  effect,  in  short,  is  that  of  a  real 
ship  at  sea ;  while,  moreover,  there  is  something  that 
kindles  the  imagination  more  than  the  reality  would 
do.  If  we  see  a  real,  great  ship,  the  mind  grasps  and 
possesses,  within  its  real  clutch,  all  that  there  is  of  it ; 
while  here  the  mimic  ship  is  the  representation  of  an 
ideal  one,  and  so  gives  us  a  more  imaginative  pleas 
ure.  There  are  many  schooners  that  ply  to  and  fro 
on  the  pond,  and  pilot-boats,  all  perfectly  rigged.  1 
saw  a  race,  the  other  day,  between  the  ship  above 
mentioned  and  a  pilot-boat,  in  which  the  latter  came 
off  conqueror.  The  boys  appear  to  be  well  acquainted 
with  all  the  ropes  and  sails,  and  can  call  them  by  theii 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  281 

nautical  names.  One  of  the  owners  of  the  vessels  re 
mains  on  one  side  of  the  pond,  and  the  other  on  the 
opposite  side,  and  so  they  send  the  little  bark  to  and 
fro,  like  merchants  of  different  countries,  consigning 
their  vessels  to  one  another. 

Generally,  when  any  vessel  is  on  the  pond,  there 
are  full-grown  spectators,  who  look  on  with  as  much 
interest  as  the  boys  themselves.  Towards  sunset,  this 
is  especially  the  case :  for  then  are  seen  young  girls 
and  their  lovers;  mothers,  with  their  little  boys  in 
hand;  school-girls,  beating  hoops  round  about,  and 
occasionally  running  to  the  side  of  the  pond ;  rough 
tars,  or  perhaps  masters  or  young  mates  of  vessels, 
who  make  remarks  about  the  miniature  shipping,  and 
occasionally  give  professional  advice  to  the  navigators ; 
visitors  from  the  country ;  gloved  and  caned  young 
gentlemen,  —  in  short,  everybody  stops  to  take  a  look. 
In  the  mean  time,  dogs  are  continually  plunging  into 
the  pond,  and  swimming  about,  with  noses  pointed 
upward,  and  snatching  at  floating  chips ;  then  emerg 
ing,  they  shake  themselves,  scattering  a  horizontal 
shower  on  the  clean  gowns  of  ladies  and  trousers  of 
gentlemen ;  then  scamper  to  and  fro  on  the  grass,  with 
joyous  barks. 

Some  boys  cast  off  lines  of  twine  with  pin-hooks, 
and  perhaps  pull  out  a  horned-pout,  —  that  being,  I 
think,  the  only  kind  of  fish  that  inhabits  the  Frog 
Pond. 

The  ship-of-war  above  mentioned  is  about  three  feet 
from  stem  to  stern,  or  possibly  a  few  inches  more. 
This,  if  I  mistake  not,  was  the  size  of  a  ship-of-the-line 
in  the  navy  of  Liliput 

Fancy  pictures  of  familiar  places  which  one  has 
aever  been  in,  as  the  green-room  of  a  theatre,  etc. 


282  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841 

The  famous  characters  of  history, — to  imagine  their 
spirits  now  extant  on  earth,  in  the  guise  of  various 
public  or  private  personages. 

The  case  quoted  in  Combe's  "Physiology"  of  a 
young  man  of  great  talents  and  profound  knowledge 
of  chemistry,  who  had  in  view  some  new  discovery  of 
importance.  In  order  to  put  his  mind  into  the  high 
est  possible  activity,  he  shut  himself  up  for  several 
successive  days,  and  used  various  methods  of  excite 
ment.  He  had  a  singing-girl,  he  drank  spirits,  smelled 
penetrating  odors,  sprinkled  Cologne-water  round  the 
room,  etc.,  etc.  Eight  days  thus  passed,  when  he  was 
seized  with  a  fit  of  frenzy  which  terminated  in  mania. 

Flesh  and  Blood,  —  a  firm  of  butchers. 
Miss  Polly  Syllable,  —  a  schoolmistress. 
Mankind  are  earthen  jugs  with  spirits  in  them. 

A  spendthrift,  —  in  one  sense  he  has  his  money's 
worth  by  the  purchase  of  large  lots  of  repentance  and 
other  dolorous  commodities. 

To  symbolize  moral  or  spiritual  disease  by  disease 
of  the  body ;  as  thus,  —  when  a  person  committed  any 
sin,  it  might  appear  in  some  form  on  the  body,  —  this 
to  be  wrought  out. 

44  Shrieking  fish,"  a  strange  idea  of  Leigh  Hunt. 

In  my  museum,  all  the  ducal  rings  that  have  been 
thrown  into  the  Adriatic. 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  288 

An  association  of  literary  men  in  the  other  world,  — • 
or  dialogues  of  the  dead,  or  something  of  that  kind. 

Imaginary  diseases  to  be  cured  by  impossible  rem 
edies,  —  as  a  dose  of  the  Grand  Elixir,  in  the  yolk  of 
a  Phoenix's  egg.  The  disease  may  be  either  moral  or 
physical. 

A  physician  for  the  cure  of  moral  diseases. 

To  point  out  the  moral  slavery  of  one  who  deems 
himself  a  free  man. 

A  stray  leaf  from  the  book  of  fate,  picked  up  in  the 
street. 

Concord,  August  btli.  —  A  rainy  day,  —  a  rainy 
day.  I  am  commanded  to  take  pen  in  hand,  and  I 
am  therefore  banished  to  the  little  ten  -  foot  -  square 
apartment  misnamed  my  study ;  but  perhaps  the  dis- 
malness  of  the  day  and  the  dulness  of  my  solitude 
will  be  the  prominent  characteristics  of  what  I  write. 
And  what  is  there  to  write  about?  Happiness  has 
no  succession  of  events,  because  it  is  a  part  of  eterni 
ty  ;  and  we  have  been  living  in  eternity  ever  since  we 
came  to  this  old  manse.  Like  Enoch,  we  seem  to 
have  been  translated  to  the  other  state  of  being  with 
out  having  passed  through  death.  Our  spirits  must 
have  flitted  away  unconsciously,  and  we  can  only  per 
ceive  that  we  have  cast  off  our  mortal  part  by  the 
more  real  and  earnest  life  of  our  souls.  Externally, 
our  Paradise  has  very  much  the  aspect  of  a  pleasant 
old  domicile  on  earth.  This  antique  house  —  for  it 
looks  antique,  though  it  was  created  by  Providence  ex- 


284  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842. 

pressly  for  our  use,  and  at  the  precise  time  wlien  we 
wanted  it  —  stands  behind  a  noble  avenue  of  balm-of- 
Gilead  trees ;  and  when  we  chance  to  observe  a  pass 
ing  traveller  through  the  sunshine  and  the  shadow  of 
this  long  avenue,  his  figure  appears  too  dim  and  re 
mote  to  disturb  the  sense  of  blissful  seclusion.  Few, 
indeed,  are  the  mortals  who  venture  within  our  sacred 
precincts.  George  Prescott,  who  has  not  yet  grown 
earthly  enough,  I  suppose,  to  be  debarred  from  occa 
sional  visits  to  Paradise,  comes  daily  to  bring  three 
pints  of  milk  from  some  ambrosial  cow ;  occasionally, 
also,  he  makes  an  offering  of  mortal  flowers.  Mr. 
Emerson  comes  sometimes,  and  has  been  feasted  on 
our  nectar  and  ambrosia.  Mr.  Thoreau  has  twice 
listened  to  the  music  of  the  spheres,  which,  for  our 
private  convenience,  we  have  packed  into  a  musical- 
box.  E H ,  who  is  much  more  at  home 

among  spirits  than  among  fleshly  bodies,  came  hither 
a  few  times  merely  to  welcome  us  to  the  ethereal 
world;  but  latterly  she  has  vanished  into  some  other 
region  of  infinite  space.  One  rash  mortal,  on  the  sec 
ond  Sunday  after  our  arrival,  obtruded  himself  upon 
us  in  a  gig.  There  have  since  been  three  or  four  call 
ers,  who  preposterously  think  that  the  courtesies  of 
the  lower  world  are  to  be  responded  to  by  people 
whose  home  is  in  Paradise.  I  must  not  forget  to 
mention  that  the  butcher  comes  twice  or  thrice  a 
week ;  and  we  have  so  far  improved  upon  the  custom 
of  Adam  and  Eve,  that  we  generally  furnish  forth 
our  feasts  with  portions  of  some  delicate  calf  or  lamb, 
whose  unspotted  innocence  entitles  them  to  the  happi 
ness  of  becoming  our  sustenance.  Would  that  I  were 
permitted  to  record  the  celestial  dainties  that  kind 
Heaven  provided  for  us  on  the  first  day  of  our  arri- 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  285 

val !     Never,  surely,  was  such  food  heard  of  on  earth, 

at  least,  not  by  me.     Well,  the  above-mentioned 

persons  are  nearly  all  that  have  entered  into  the  hal 
lowed  shade  of  our  avenue ;  except,  indeed,  a  certain 
sinner  who  came  to  bargain  for  the  grass  in  our  or 
chard,  and  another  who  came  with  a  new  cistern.  For 
it  is  one  of  the  drawbacks  upon  our  Eden  that  it  con 
tains  no  water  fit  either  to  drink  or  to  bathe  in ;  so 
that  the  showers  have  become,  in  good  truth,  a  god 
send.  I  wonder  why  Providence  does  not  cause  a 
clear,  cold  fountain  to  bubble  up  at  our  doorstep  ;  me- 
thinks  it  would  not  be  unreasonable  to  pray  for  such 
a  favor.  At  present  we  are  under  the  ridiculous  ne 
cessity  of  sending  to  the  outer  world  for  water.  Only 
imagine  Adam  trudging  out  of  Paradise  with  a  bucket 
in  each  hand,  to  get  water  to  drink,  or  for  Eve  to 
bathe  in  !  Intolerable  !  (though  our  stout  hand 
maiden  really  fetches  our  water.)  In  other  respects 
Providence  has  treated  us  pretty  tolerably  well ;  but 
here  I  shall  expect  something  further  to  be  done. 
Also,  in  the  way  of  future  favors,  a  kitten  would  be 
very  acceptable.  Animals  (except,  perhaps,  a  pig) 
seem  never  out  of  place,  even  in  the  most  paradisiacal 
spheres.  And,  by  the  way,  a  young  colt  comes  up 
our  avenue,  now  and  then,  to  crop  the  seldom-trodden 
herbage ;  and  so  does  a  company  of  cows,  whose  sweet 
breath  well  repays  us  for  the  food  which  they  obtain. 
There  are  likewise  a  few  hens,  whose  quiet  cluck  is 
heard  pleasantly  about  the  house.  A  black  dog  some 
times  stands  at  the  farther  extremity  of  the  avenue, 
and  looks  wistfully  hitherward  ;  but  when  I  whistle  to 
him,  he  puts  his  tail  between  his  legs,  and  trots  away. 
Foolish  dog!  if  he  had  more  faith,  he  should  have 
bones  enough. 


286  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [184* 

Saturday,  August  6th.  —  Still  a  dull  day,  threat 
ening  rain,  yet  without  energy  of  character  enough  to 
rain  outright.  However,  yesterday  there  were  show 
ers  enough  to  supply  us  well  with  their  beneficent  out 
pouring.  As  to  the  new  cistern,  it  seems  to  be  be 
witched  ;  for,  while  the  spout  pours  into  it  like  a 
cataract,  it  still  remains  almost  empty.  I  wonder 
where  Mr.  Hosmer  got  it;  perhaps  from  Tantalus, 
under  the  eaves  of  whose  palace  it  must  formerly 
have  stood ;  for,  like  his  drinking  -  cup  in  Hades,  it 
has  the  property  of  filling  itself  forever,  and  never 
being  full. 

After  breakfast  I  took  my  fishing-rod,  and  went 
down  through  our  orchard  to  the  river-side ;  but  as 
three  or  four  boys  were  already  in  possession  of  the 
best  spots  along  the  shore,  I  did  not  fish.  This  river 
of  ours  is  the  most  sluggish  stream  that  I  ever  was 
acquainted  with.  I  had  spent  three  weeks  by  its  side, 
and  swam  across  it  every  day,  before  I  could  de 
termine  which  way  its  current  ran ;  and  then  I  was 
compelled  to  decide  the  question  by  the  testimony  of 
others,  and  not  by  my  own  observation.  Owing  to 
this  torpor  of  the  stream,  it  has  nowhere  a  bright, 
pebbly  shore,  nor  is  there  so  much  as  a  narrow  strip 
of  glistening  sand  in  any  part  of  its  course;  but  it 
slumbers  along  between  broad  meadows,  or  kisses  the 
tangled  grass  of  mowing-fields  and  pastures,  or  bathes 
the  overhanging  boughs  of  elder-bushes  and  other  wa 
ter-loving  plants.  Flags  and  rushes  grow  along  its 
shallow  margin.  The  yellow  water  -  lily  spreads  its 
broad  flat  leaves  upon  its  surface ;  and  the  fragrant 
white  pond-lily  occurs  in  many  favored  spots,  — gen 
erally  selecting  a  situation  just  so  far  from  the  river's 
brink  that  it  cannot  be  grasped  except  at  the  hazard 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  287 

of  plunging  in.  But  thanks  be  to  the  beautiful  flower 
for  growing  at  any  rate.  It  is  a  marvel  whence  it  de 
rives  its  loveliness  and  perfume,  sprouting  as  it  does 
from  the  black  mud  over  which  the  river  sleeps,  and 
from  which  the  yellow  lily  likewise  draws  its  unclean 
life  and  noisome  odor.  So  it  is  with  many  people  in 
this  world ;  the  same  soil  and  circumstances  may  pro- 
iuce  the  good  and  beautiful,  and  the  wicked  and  ugly. 
Some  have  the  faculty  of  assimilating  to  themselves 
only  what  is  evil,  and  so  they  become  as  noisome  as 
the  yellow  water-lily.  Some  assimilate  none  but  good 
influences,  and  their  emblem  is  the  fragrant  and  spot 
less  pond-lily,  whose  very  breath  is  a  blessing  to  all 
the  region  round  about.  .  .  .  Among  the  productions 
of  the  river's  margin,  I  must  not  forget  the  pickerel- 
weed,  which  grows  just  on  the  edge  of  the  water,  and 
shoots  up  a  long  stalk  crowned  with  a  blue  spire,  from 
among  large  green  leaves.  Both  the  flower  and  the 
leaves  look  well  in  a  vase  with  pond-lilies,  and  relieve 
the  unvaried  whiteness  of  the  latter;  and,  being  all 
alike  children  of  the  waters,  they  are  perfectly  in  keep 
ing  with  one  another.  .  .  . 

I  bathe  once,  and  often  twice,  a  day  in  our  river ; 
but  one  dip  into  the  salt  sea  would  be  worth  more 
than  a  whole  week's  soaking  in  such  a  lifeless  tide.  I 
have  read  of  a  river  somewhere  (whether  it  be  in  clas 
sic  regions  or  among  our  Western  Indians  I  know 
not)  which  seemed  to  dissolve  and  steal  away  the 
vigor  of  those  who  bathed  in  it.  Perhaps  our  stream 
will  be  found  to  have  this  property.  Its  water,  how 
ever,  is  pleasant  in  its  immediate  effect,  being  as  soft 
as  milk,  and  always  warmer  than  the  air.  Its  hue  has 
a  slight  tinge  of  gold,  and  my  limbs,  when  I  behold 
them  through  its  medium,  look  tawny.  I  am  not 


288  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842. 

aware  that  the  inhabitants  of  Concord  resemble  theii 
native  river  in  any  of  their  moral  characteristics. 
Their  forefathers,  certainly,  seem  to  have  had  the  en 
ergy  and  impetus  of  a  mountain  torrent,  rather  than 
the  torpor  of  this  listless  stream,  —  as  it  was  proved 
by  the  blood  with  which  they  stained  their  river  of 
Peace.  It  is  said  there  are  plenty  of  fish  in  it ;  but 
my  most  important  captures  hitherto  have  been  a  mud- 
turtle  and  an  enormous  eel.  The  former  made  his  es 
cape  to  his  native  element,  —  the  latter  we  ate ;  and 
truly  he  had  the  taste  of  the  whole  river  in  his  flesh, 
with  a  very  prominent  flavor  of  mud.  On  the  whole, 
Concord  River  is  no  great  favorite  of  mine ;  but  I  am 
glad  to  have  any  river  at  all  so  near  at  hand,  it  being 
just  at  the  bottom  of  our  orchard.  Neither  is  it  with 
out  a  degree  and  kind  of  picturesqueness,  both  in  its 
nearness  and  in  the  distance,  when  a  blue  gleam  from 
its  surface,  among  the  green  meadows  and  woods, 
seems  like  an  open  eye  in  Earth's  countenance.  Pleas 
ant  it  is,  too,  to  behold  a  little  flat-bottomed  skiff  glid 
ing  over  its  bosom,  which  yields  lazily  to  the  stroke  of 
the  paddle,  and  allows  the  boat  to  go  against  its  cur 
rent  almost  as  freely  as  with  it.  Pleasant,  too,  to 
watch  an  angler,  as  he  strays  along  the  brink,  some 
times  sheltering  himself  behind  a  tuft  of  bushes,  and 
trailing  his  line  along  the  water,  in  hopes  to  catch  a 
pickerel.  But,  taking  the  river  for  all  in  all,  I  can 
find  nothing  more  fit  to  compare  it  with  than  one  of 
the  half -torpid  earthworms  which  I  dig  up  for  bait. 
The  worm  is  sluggish,  and  so  is  the  river,  —  the  river 
is  muddy,  and  so  is  the  worm.  You  hardly  know 
whether  either  of  them  be  alive  or  dead  ;  but  still,  in 
fche  course  of  time,  they  both  manage  to  creep  away. 
The  best  aspect  of  the  Concord  is  when  there  is  a 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  289 

northwestern  breeze  curling  its  surface,  in  a  bright, 
sunshiny  day.  It  then  assumes  a  vivacity  not  its  own. 
Moonlight,  also,  gives  it  beauty,  as  it  does  to  all  scen 
ery  of  earth  or  water. 

Sunday,  August  1th.  —  At  sunset  last  evening  I 
ascended  the  hill-top  opposite  our  house ;  and,  looking 
downward  at  the  long  extent  of  the  river,  it  struck  me 
that  I  had  done  it  some  injustice  in  my  remarks.  Per 
haps,  like  other  gentle  and  quiet  characters,  it  will  be 
better  appreciated  the  longer  I  am  acquainted  with  it. 
Certainly,  as  I  beheld  it  then,  it  was  one  of  the  love 
liest  features  in  a  scene  of  great  rural  beauty.  It  was 
visible  through  a  course  of  two  or  three  miles,  sweep 
ing  in  a  semicircle  round  the  hill  on  which  I  stood, 
and  being  the  central  line  of  a  broad  vale  on  either 
side.  At  a  distance,  it  looked  like  a  strip  of  sky  set 
into  the  earth,  which  it  so  etherealized  and  idealized 
that  it  seemed  akin  to  the  upper  regions.  Nearer  the 
base  of  the  hill,  I  could  discern  the  shadows  of  every 
tree  and  rock,  imaged  with  a  distinctness  that  made 
them  even  more  charming  than  the  reality ;  because, 
knowing  them  to  be  unsubstantial,  they  assumed  the 
ideality  which  the  soul  always  craves  in  the  contempla 
tion  of  earthly  beauty.  All  the  sky,  too,  and  the  ricn 
clouds  of  sunset,  were  reflected  in  the  peaceful  bosom 
of  the  river ;  and  surely,  if  its  bosom  can  give  back 
such  an  adequate  reflection  of  heaven,  it  cannot  be  so 
gross  and  impure  as  I  described  it  yesterday.  Or,  if 
so,  it  shall  be  a  symbol  to  me  that  even  a  human 
breast,  which  may  appear  least  spiritual  in  some  as 
pects,  may  still  have  the  capability  of  reflecting  an  in 
finite  heaven  in  its  depths,  and  therefore  of  enjoying 
it.  It  is  a  comfortable  thought,  that  the  smallest  and 

VOL.   IX.  19 


290  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842, 

most  turbid  mud-puddle  can  contain  its  own  picture  of 
heaven.  Let  us  remember  this,  when  we  feel  inclined 
to  deny  all  spiritual  life  to  some  people,  in  whom, 
nevertheless,  our  Father  may  perhaps  see  the  image  of 
His  face.  This  dull  river  has  a  deep  religion  of  its 
own  ;  so,  let  us  trust,  has  the  dullest  human  soul, 
though,  perhaps,  unconsciously. 

The  scenery  of  Concord,  as  I  beheld  it  from  the 
summit  of  the  hill,  has  no  very  marked  characteristics, 
but  has  a  great  deal  of  quiet  beauty,  in  keeping  with 
the  river.  There  are  broad  and  peaceful  meadows, 
which,  I  think,  are  among  the  most  satisfying  objects 
in  natural  scenery.  The  heart  reposes  on  them  with 
a  feeling  that  few  things  else  can  give,  because  almost 
all  other  objects  are  abrupt  and  clearly  defined ;  but  a 
meadow  stretches  out  like  a  small  infinity,  yet  with  a 
secure  homeliness  which  we  do  not  find  either  in  an 
expanse  of  water  or  of  air.  The  hills  which  border 
these  meadows  are  wide  swells  of  land,  or  long  and 
gradual  ridges,  some  of  them  densely  covered  with 
wood.  The  white  village,  at  a  distance  on  the  left, 
appears  to  be  embosomed  among  wooded  hills.  The 
verdure  of  the  country  is  much  more  perfect  than  is 
usual  at  this  season  of  the  year,  when  the  autumnal 
hue  has  generally  made  considerable  progress  over 
trees  and  grass.  Last  evening,  after  the  copious  show 
ers  of  the  preceding  two  days,  it  was  worthy  of  early 
June,  or,  indeed,  of  a  world  just  created.  Had  I  not 
then  been  alone,  I  should  have  had  a  far  deeper  sense 
of  beauty,  for  I  should  have  looked  through  the  me 
dium  of  another  spirit.  Along  the  horizon  there  were 
masses  of  those  deep  clouds  in  which  the  fancy  may 
see  images  of  all  things  that  ever  existed  or  were 
ireamed  of.  Over  our  old  manse,  of  which  I  could 


£842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  291 

catch  but  a  glimpse  among  its  embowering  trees,  ap 
peared  the  immensely  gigantic  figure  of  a  hound, 
crouching  down  with  head  erect,  as  if  keeping  watch 
ful  guard  while  the  master  of  the  mansion  was  awayc 
.  .  .  How  sweet  it  was  to  draw  near  my  own  home, 
after  having  lived  homeless  in  the  world  so  long !  .  .  . 
With  thoughts  like  these,  I  descended  the  hill,  and 
clambered  over  the  stone-wall,  and  crossed  the  road, 
and  passed  up  our  avenue,  while  the  quaint  old  house 
put  on  an  aspect  of  welcome. 

Monday,  August  StJi.  —  I  wish  I  could  give  a  de 
scription  of  our  house,  for  it  really  has  a  character  of 
its  own,  which  is  more  than  can  be  said  of  most  edi 
fices  in  these  days.  It  is  two  stories  high,  with  a  third 
story  of  attic  chambers  in  the  gable -roof.  When  I 
first  visited  it,  early  in  June,  it  looked  pretty  much  as 
it  did  during  the  old  clergyman's  lifetime,  showing  all 
the  dust  and  disarray  that  might  be  supposed  to  have 
gathered  about  him  in  the  course  of  sixty  years  of  occu 
pancy.  The  rooms  seemed  never  to  have  been  painted  ; 
at  all  events,  the  walls  and  panels,  as  well  as  the  huge 
cross-beams,  had  a  venerable  and  most  dismal  tinge  of 
brown.  The  furniture  consisted  of  high-backed,  short- 
legged,  rheumatic  chairs,  small,  old  tables,  bedsteads 
with  lofty  posts,  stately  chests  of  drawers,  looking- 
glasses  in  antique  black  frames,  all  of  which  were 
probably  fashionable  in  the  days  of  Dr.  Kipley's  pre 
decessor.  It  required  some  energy  of  imagination  to 
conceive  the  idea  of  transforming  this  ancient  edifice 
into  a  comfortable  modern  residence.  However,  it 
has  been  successfully  accomplished.  The  old  Doctor's 
sleeping-apartment,  which  was  the  front  room  on  the 
ground-floor,  we  have  converted  into  a  parlor ;  and  by 


292  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [184* 

the  aid  of  cheerful  paint  and  paper,  a  gladsome  carpet, 
pictures  and  engravings,  new  furniture,  bijouterie,  and 
a  daily  supply  of  flowers,  it  has  become  one  of  the 
prettiest  and  pleasantest  rooms  in  the  whole  world. 
The  shade  of  our  departed  host  will  never  haunt  it ; 
for  its  aspect  has  been  changed  as  completely  as  the 
scenery  of  a  theatre.  Probably  the  ghost  gave  one 
peep  into  it,  uttered  a  groan,  and  vanished  forever. 
The  opposite  room  has  been  metamorphosed  into  a 
store-room.  Through  the  house,  both  in  the  first  and 
second  story,  runs  a  spacious  hall  or  entry,  occupying 
more  space  than  is  usually  devoted  to  such  a  purpose 
in  modern  times.  This  feature  contributes  to  give  the 
whole  house  an  airy,  roomy,  and  convenient  appear 
ance  ;  we  can  breathe  the  freer  by  the  aid  of  the  broad 
passageway.  The  front  door  of  the  hall  looks  up  the 
stately  avenue,  which  I  have  already  mentioned  ;  and 
the  opposite  door  opens  into  the  orchard,  through 
which  a  path  descends  to  the  river.  In  the  second 
story  we  have  at  present  fitted  up  three  rooms,  —  one 
being  our  own  chamber,  and  the  opposite  one  a  guest- 
chamber,  which  contains  the  most  presentable  of  the 
old  Doctor's  ante-Revolutionary  furniture.  After  all, 
the  moderns  have  invented  nothing  better,  as  chamber 
furniture,  than  these  chests  of  drawers,  which  stand  on 
four  slender  legs,  and  rear  an  absolute  tower  of  ma 
hogany  to  the  ceiling,  the  whole  terminating  in  a  fan 
tastically  carved  summit.  Such  a  venerable  structure 
adorns  our  guest-chamber.  In  the  rear  of  the  house 
is  the  little  room  which  I  call  my  study,  and  which, 
in  its  day,  has  witnessed  the  intellectual  labors  of  bet 
ter  students  than  myself.  It  contains,  with  some  ad 
ditions  and  alterations,  the  furniture  of  my  bachelor- 
roetn  in  Boston;  but  there  is  a  happier  disposal  of 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  293 

things  now.  There  is  a  little  vase  of  flowers  on  one 
of  the  bookcases,  and  a  larger  bronze  vase  of  graceful 
ferns  that  surmounts  the  bureau.  In  size  the  room 
is  just  what  it  ought  to  be  ;  for  I  never  could  com 
press  my  thoughts  sufficiently  to  write  in  a  very  spa 
cious  room.  It  has  three  windows,  two  of  which  are 
shaded  by  a  large  and  beautiful  willow -tree,  which 
sweeps  against  the  overhanging  eaves.  On  this  side 
we  have  a  view  into  the  orchard,  and,  beyond,  a 
glimpse  of  the  river.  The  other  window  is  the  one 
from  which  Mr.  Emerson,  the  predecessor  of  Dr.  Rip- 
ley,  beheld  the  first  fight  of  the  Revolution,  —  which 
he  might  well  do,  as  the  British  troops  were  drawn  up 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  house ;  and  on  looking 
forth  just  now,  I  could  still  perceive  the  western  abut 
ments  of  the  old  bridge,  the  passage  of  which  was  con 
tested.  The  new  monument  is  visible  from  base  to 
summit. 

Notwithstanding  all  we  have  done  to  modernize  the 
old  place,  we  seem  scarcely  to  have  disturbed  its  air  of 
antiquity.  It  is  evident  that  other  wedded  pairs  have 
spent  their  honeymoons  here,  that  children  have  been 
born  here,  and  people  have  grown  old  and  died  in 
these  rooms,  although  for  our  behoof  the  same  apart 
ments  have  consented  to  look  cheerful  once  again. 
Then  there  are  dark  closets,  and  strange  nooks  and 
corners,  where  the  ghosts  of  former  occupants  might 
hide  themselves  in  the  daytime,  and  stalk  forth  when 
night  conceals  all  our  sacrilegious  improvements.  We 
have  seen  no  apparitions  as  yet ;  but  we  hear  strange 
noises,  especially  in  the  kitchen,  and  last  night,  while 
sitting  in  the  parlor,  we  heard  a  thumping  and  pound 
ing  as  of  somebody  at  work  in  my  study.  Nay,  if  I 
mistake  not  (for  I  was  half  asleep),  there  was  a  sound 


294  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842. 

as  of  some  person  crumpling  paper  in  his  hand  in  our 
very  bedchamber.  This  must  have  been  old  Dr.  Rip- 
ley  with  one  of  his  sermons.  There  is  a  whole  chest 
of  them  in  the  garret ;  but  he  need  have  no  appre 
hensions  of  our  disturbing  them.  I  never  saw  the  old 
patriarch  myself,  which  I  regret,  as  I  should  have  been 
glad  to  associate  his  venerable  figure  at  ninety  years 
of  age  with  the  house  in  which  he  dwelt. 

Externally  the  house  presents  the  same  appearance 
as  in  the  Doctor's  day.  It  had  once  a  coat  of  white 
paint ;  but  the  storms  and  sunshine  of  many  years 
have  almost  obliterated  it,  and  produced  a  sober, 
grayish  hue,  which  entirely  suits  the  antique  form  of 
the  structure.  To  repaint  its  reverend  face  would  be 
a  real  sacrilege.  It  would  look  like  old  Dr.  Eipley  in 
a  brown  wig.  I  hardly  know  why  it  is  that  our  cheer 
ful  and  lightsome  repairs  and  improvements  in  the  in 
terior  of  the  house  seem  to  be  in  perfectly  good  taste, 
though  the  heavy  old  beams  and  high  wainscoting  of 
the  walls  speak  of  ages  gone  by.  But  so  it  is.  The 
cheerful  paper-hangings  have  the  air  of  belonging  to 
the  old  walls ;  and  such  modernisms  as  astral  lamps, 
card-tables,  gilded  Cologne-bottles,  silver  taper-stands, 
and  bronze  and  alabaster  flower-vases,  do  not  seem  at 
all  impertinent.  It  is  thus  that  an  aged  man  may 
keep  his  heart  warm  for  new  things  and  new  friends, 
and  often  furnish  himself  anew  with  ideas  ;  though  it 
would  not  be  graceful  for  him  to  attempt  to  suit  his 
exterior  to  the  passing  fashions  of  the  day. 

August  Qth.  —  Our  orchard  in  its  day  has  been  a 
rery  productive  and  profitable  one  ;  and  we  were  told 
that  in  one  year  it  returned  Dr.  Ripley  a  hundred 
dollars,  besides  defraying  the  expense  of  repairing 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  295 

the  house.  It  is  now  long  past  its  prime :  many  of 
the  trees  are  moss-grown,  and  have  dead  and  rotten 
branches  intermixed  among  the  green  and  fruitful  ones. 
And  it  may  well  be  so ;  for  I  suppose  some  of  the 
trees  may  have  been  set  out  by  Mr.  Emerson,  who 
died  in  the  first  year  of  the  Revolutionary  War. 
Neither  will  the  fruit,  probably,  bear  comparison  with 
the  delicate  productions  of  modern  pomology.  Most 
of  the  trees  seem  to  have  abundant  burdens  upon 
them  ;  but  they  are  homely  russet  apples,  fit  only  for 
baking  and  cooking.  (But  we  are  yet  to  have  prac 
tical  experience  of  our  fruit.)  Justice  Shallow's  or 
chard,  with  its  choice  pippins  and  leather-coats,  was 
doubtless  much  superior.  Nevertheless,  it  pleases  me 
to  think  of  the  good  minister,  walking  in  the  shadows 
of  these  old,  fantastically  shaped  apple-trees,  here 
plucking  some  of  the  fruit  to  taste,  there  pruning 
away  a  too  luxuriant  branch,  and  all  the  while  com- 
puting  how  many  barrels  may  be  filled,  and  how  large 
a  sum  will  be  added  to  his  stipend  by  their  sale.  And 
the  same  trees  offer  their  fruit  to  me  as  freely  as  they 
did  to  him,  —  their  old  branches,  like  withered  hands 
and  arms,  holding  out  apples  of  the  same  flavor  as 
they  held  out  to  Dr.  Ripley  in  his  lifetime.  Thus 
the  trees,  as  living  existences,  form  a  peculiar  link  be 
tween  the  dead  and  us.  My  fancy  has  always  found 
something  very  interesting  in  an  orchard.  Apple- 
trees,  and  all  fruit-trees,  have  a  domestic  character 
which  brings  them  into  relationship  with  man.  They 
have  lost,  in  a  great  measure,  the  wild  nature  of  the 
forest-tree,  and  have  grown  humanized  by  receiving 
fche  care  of  man,  and  by  contributing  to  his  wants. 
They  have  become  a  part  of  the  family  ;  and  their  in 
dividual  characters  are  as  well  understood  and  appreci- 


296  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842 

ated  as  those  of  the  human  members.  One  tree  is 
harsh  and  crabbed,  another  mild  ;  one  is  churlish  and 
illiberal,  another  exhausts  itself  with  its  free-hearted 
bounties.  Even  the  shapes  of  apple-trees  have  great 
individuality,  into  such  strange  postures  do  they  put 
themselves,  and  thrust  their  contorted  branches  so 
grotesquely  in  all  directions.  And  when  they  have 
stood  around  a  house  for  many  years,  and  held  con 
verse  with  successive  dynasties  of  occupants,  and  glad 
dened  their  hearts  so  often  in  the  fruitful  autumn, 
then  it  would  seem  almost  sacrilege  to  cut  them  down. 
Besides  the  apple-trees,  there  are  various  other 
kinds  of  fruit  in  close  vicinity  to  the  house.  When 
we  first  arrived,  there  were  several  trees  of  ripe  cher 
ries,  but  so  sour  that  we  allowed  them  to  wither  upon 
the  branches.  Two  long  rows  of  currant-bushes  sup 
plied  us  abundantly  for  nearly  four  weeks.  There  are 
a  good  many  peach-trees,  but  all  of  an  old  date,  — 
their  branches  rotten,  gummy,  and  mossy,  —  and  their 
fruit,  I  fear,  will  be  of  very  inferior  quality.  They 
produce  most  abundantly,  however,  —  the  peaches  be 
ing  almost  as  numerous  as  the  leaves ;  and  even  the 
sprouts  and  suckers  from  the  roots  of  the  old  trees 
have  fruit  upon  them.  Then  there  are  pear-trees  of 
various  kinds,  and  one  or  two  quince-trees.  On  the 
whole,  these  fruit-trees,  and  the  other  items  and  ad 
juncts  of  the  place,  convey  a  very  agreeable  idea  of 
the  outward  comfort  in  which  the  good  old  Doctor 
must  have  spent  his  life.  Everything  seems  to  have 
fallen  to  his  lot  that  could  possibly  be  supposed  to 
render  the  life  of  a  country  clergyman  easy  and  pros 
perous.  There  is  a  barn,  which  probably  used  to  be 
filled  annually  with  his  hay  and  other  agricultural  pro 
ducts.  There  are  sheds,  and  a  hen-house,  and  a  pig 


1842.]  AMERICAN'  NOTE-BOOKS.  297 

eon-house,  and  an  old  stone  pigsty,  the  open  portion 
of  which  is  overgrown  with  tall  weeds,  indicating  that 
no  grunter  has  recently  occupied  it.  ...  I  have  se 
rious  thoughts  of  inducting  a  new  incumbent  in  this 
part  of  the  parsonage.  It  is  our  duty  to  support  a 
pig,  even  if  we  have  no  design  of  feasting  upon  him ; 
and,  for  my  own  part,  I  have  a  great  sympathy  and 
interest  for  the  whole  race  of  porkers,  and  should 
have  much  amusement  in  studying  the  character  of 
a  pig.  Perhaps  I  might  try  to  bring  out  his  moral 
and  intellectual  nature,  and  cultivate  his  affections. 
A  cat,  too,  and  perhaps  a  dog,  would  be  desirable  ad 
ditions  to  our  household. 

August  10th.  —  The  natural  taste  of  man  for  the 
original  Adam's  occupation  is  fast  developing  itself  in 
me.  I  find  that  I  am  a  good  deal  interested  in  our 
garden,  although,  as  it  was  planted  before  we  came 
here,  I  do  not  feel  the  same  affection  for  the  plants 
that  I  should  if  the  seed  had  been  sown  by  my  own 
hands.  It  is  something  like  nursing  and  educating 
another  person's  children.  Still,  it  was  a  very  pleas 
ant  moment  when  I  gathered  the  first  string-beans, 
which  were  the  earliest  esculent  that  the  garden  con 
tributed  to  our  table.  And  I  love  to  watch  the  succes 
sive  development  of  each  new  vegetable,  and  mark  its 
daily  growth,  which  always  affects  me  with  surprise. 
It  is  as  if  something  were  being  created  under  my 
own  inspection,  and  partly  by  my  own  aid.  One  day, 
perchance,  I  look  at  my  bean-vines,  and  see  only  the 
green  leaves  clambering  up  the  poles  ;  again,  to-mor 
row,  I  give  a  second  glance,  and  there  are  the  delicate 
blossoms ;  and  a  third  day,  on  a  somewhat  closer  ob 
servation,  I  discover  the  tender  young  beans,  hiding 


298  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842. 

among  the  foliage.  Then,  each  morning,  I  watch  the 
swelling  of  the  pods  and  calculate  how  soon  they  will 
be  ready  to  yield  their  treasures.  All  this  gives  a 
pleasure  and  an  ideality,  hitherto  unthought  of,  to 
the  business  of  providing  sustenance  for  my  family. 
I  suppose  Adam  felt  it  in  Paradise ;  and,  of  merely 
and  exclusively  earthly  enjoyments,  there  are  few 
purer  and  more  harmless  to  be  experienced.  Speak 
ing  of  beans,  by  the  way,  they  are  a  classical  food, 
and  their  culture  must  have  been  the  occupation  of 
many  ancient  sages  and  heroes.  Summer  -  squashes 
are  a  very  pleasant  vegetable  to  be  acquainted  with. 
They  grow  in  the  forms  of  urns  and  vases,  —  some 
shallow,  others  deeper,  and  all  with  a  beautifully  scal 
loped  edge.  Almost  any  squash  in  our  garden  might 
be  copied  by  a  sculptor,  and  would  look  lovely  in 
marble,  or  in  china ;  and,  if  I  could  afford  it,  I  would 
have  exact  imitations  of  the  real  vegetable  as  portions 
of  my  dining-service.  They  would  be  very  appropri 
ate  dishes  for  holding  garden-vegetables.  Besides  the 
summer-squashes,  we  have  the  crook-necked  winter- 
squash,  which  I  always  delight  to  look  at,  when  it 
turns  up  its  big  rotundity  to  ripen  in  the  autumn  sun. 
Except  a  pumpkin,  there  is  no  vegetable  production 
that  imparts  such  an  idea  of  warmth  and  comfort  to 
the  beholder.  Our  own  crop,  however,  does  not  prom 
ise  to  be  very  abundant ;  for  the  leaves  formed  such  a 
superfluous  shade  over  the  young  blossoms,  that  most 
of  them  dropped  off  without  producing  the  germ  of 
fruit.  Yesterday  and  to-day  I  have  cut  off  an  im 
mense  number  of  leaves,  and  have  thus  given  the  re 
maining  blossoms  a  chance  to  profit  by  the  air  and 
sunshine  ;  but  the  season  is  too  far  advanced,  I  am 
afraid,  for  the  squashes  to  attain  any  great  bulk,  and 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  299 

grow  yellow  in  the  sun.  We  have  muskmelons  and 
watermelons,  which  promise  to  supply  us  with  as 
many  as  we  can  eat.  After  all,  the  greatest  interest 
of  these  vegetables  does  not  seem  to  consist  in  their 
being  articles  of  food.  It  is  rather  that  we  love  to  see 
something  born  into  the  world ;  and  when  a  great 
squash  or  melon  is  produced,  it  is  a  large  and  tangible 
existence,  which  the  imagination  can  seize  hold  of  and 
rejoice  in.  I  love,  also,  to  see  my  own  works  con 
tributing  to  the  life  and  well-being  of  animate  nature. 
It  is  pleasant  to  have  the  bees  come  and  suck  honey 
out  of  my  squash-blossoms,  though,  when  they  have 
laden  themselves,  they  fly  away  to  some  unknown 
hive,  which  will  give  me  back  nothing  in  return  for 
what  my  garden  has  given  them.  But  there  is  much 
more  honey  in  the  world,  and  so  I  am  content.  In 
dian  corn,  in  the  prime  and  glory  of  its  verdure,  is  a 
very  beautiful  vegetable,  both  considered  in  the  sepa 
rate  plant,  and  in  a  mass  in  a  broad  field,  rustling  and 
waving,  and  surging  up  and  down  in  the  breeze  and 
sunshine  of  a  summer  afternoon.  We  have  as  many 
as  fifty  hills,  I  should  think,  which  will  give  us  an 
abundant  supply.  Pray  Heaven  that  we  may  be  able 
to  eat  it  all !  for  it  is  not  pleasant  to  think  that  any 
thing  which  Nature  has  been  at  the  pains  to  produce 
should  be  thrown  away.  But  the  hens  will  be  glad  of 
our  superfluity,  and  so  will  the  pigs,  though  we  have 
neither  hens  nor  pigs  of  our  own.  But  hens  we  must 
certainly  keep.  There  is  something  very  sociable  and 
quiet,  and  soothing,  too,  in  their  soliloquies  and  con 
verse  among  themselves ;  and,  in  an  idle  and  half- 
meditative  mood,  it  is  very  pleasant  to  watch  a  party 
of  hens  picking  up  their  daily  subsistence,  with  a  gal 
lant  chanticleer  in  the  midst  of  them.  Milton  had 
evidently  contemplated  such  a  picture  with  delight. 


300  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842. 

I  find  that  I  have  not  given  a  very  complete  idea 
of  our  garden,  although  it  certainly  deserves  an  ample 
record  in  this  chronicle,  since  my  labors  in  it  are  the 
only  present  labors  of  my  life.  Besides  what  I  have 
mentioned,  we  have  cucumber  -  vines,  which  to  -  day 
yielded  us  the  first  cucumber  of  the  season,  a  bed  of 
beets,  and  another  of  carrots,  and  another  of  parsnips 
and  turnips,  none  of  which  promise  us  a  very  abundant 
harvest.  In  truth,  the  soil  is  worn  out,  and,  moreover, 
received  very  little  manure  this  season.  Also,  we  have 
cabbages  in  superfluous  abundance,  inasmuch  as  we 
neither  of  us  have  the  least  affection  for  them ;  and  it 
would  be  unreasonable  to  expect  Sarah,  the  cook,  to 
eat  fifty  head  of  cabbages.  Tomatoes,  too,  we  shall 
have  by  and  by.  At  our  first  arrival,  we  found  green 
peas  ready  for  gathering,  and  these,  instead  of  the 
string-beans,  were  the  first  offering  of  the  garden  to 
our  board. 

Saturday,  August  \St7i.  —  My  life,  at  this  time,  is 
more  like  that  of  a  boy,  externally,  than  it  has  been 
since  I  was  really  a  boy.  It  is  usually  supposed  that 
the  cares  of  life  come  with  matrimony ;  but  I  seem  to 
have  cast  off  all  care,  and  live  on  with  as  much  easy 
trust  in  Providence  as  Adam  could  possibly  have  felt 
before  he  had  learned  that  there  was  a  world  beyond 
Paradise.  My  chief  anxiety  consists  in  watching  the 
prosperity  of  my  vegetables,  in  observing  how  they  are 
affected  by  the  rain  or  sunshine,  in  lamenting  the 
blight  of  one  squash  and  rejoicing  at  the  luxurious 
growth  of  another.  It  is  as  if  the  original  relation  be 
tween  man  and  Nature  were  restored  in  my  case,  and 
as  if  I  were  to  look  exclusively  to  her  for  the  support 
of  my  Eve  and  myself,  —  to  trust  to  her  for  food  and 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  301 

clothing,  and  all  things  needful,  with  the  full  assurance 
that  she  would  not  fail  me.  The  fight  with  the  world, 
—  the  struggle  of  a  man  among  men,  —  the  agony  of 
the  universal  effort  to  wrench  the  means  of  living  from 
a  host  of  greedy  competitors,  —  all  this  seems  like  a 
dream  to  me.  My  business  is  merely  to  live  and  to 
enjoy  ;  and  whatever  is  essential  to  life  and  enjoyment 
will  come  as  naturally  as  the  dew  from  heaven.  This 
is,  practically  at  least,  my  faith.  And  so  I  awake  in 
the  morning  with  a  boyish  thoughtlessness  as  to  how 
the  outgoings  of  the  day  are  to  be  provided  for,  and 
its  incomings  rendered  certain.  After  breakfast,  I  go 
forth  into  my  garden,  and  gather  whatever  the  bounti 
ful  Mother  has  made  fit  for  our  present  sustenance ; 
and  of  late  days  she  generally  gives  me  two  squashes 
and  a  cucumber,  and  promises  me  green  corn  and 
shell-beans  very  soon.  Then  I  pass  down  through 
our  orchard  to  the  river-side,  and  ramble  along  its 
margin  in  search  of  flowers.  Usually  I  discern  a 
fragrant  white  lily,  here  and  there  along  the  shore, 
growing,  with  sweet  prudishness,  beyond  the  grasp  of 
mortal  arm.  But  it  does  not  escape  me  so.  I  know 
what  is  its  fitting  destiny  better  than  the  sillj  flower 
knows  for  itself ;  so  I  wade  in,  heedless  of  wet  trou 
sers,  and  seize  the  shy  lily  by  its  slender  stem.  Thus 
I  make  prize  of  five  or  six,  which  are  as  many  as  usu 
ally  blossom  within  my  reach  in  a  single  morning  ;  — 
some  of  them  partially  worm-eaten  or  blighted,  like 
virgins  with  an  eating  sorrow  at  the  heart ;  others  as 
fair  and  perfect  as  Nature's  own  idea  was,  when  she 
first  imagined  this  lovely  flower.  A  perfect  pond-lily 
is  the  most  satisfactory  of  flowers.  Besides  these,  I 
gather  whatever  else  of  beautiful  chances  to  be  grow 
fog  in  the  moist  soil  by  the  river-side,  —  an  amphibi 


302  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842. 

ous  tribe,  yet  with  more  richness  and  grace  than  the 
wild-flowers  of  the  deep  and  dry  woodlands  and  hedge 
rows,  —  sometimos  the  white  arrow-head,  always  the 
blue  spires  and  broad  green  leaves  of  the  pickerel- 
flower,  which  contrast  and  harmonize  so  well  with  the 
i  white  lilies.  For  the  last  two  or  three  days,  I  have 
found  scattered  stalks  of  the  cardinal-flower,  the  gor 
geous  scarlet  of  which  it  is  a  joy  even  to  remember, 
The  world  is  made  brighter  and  sunnier  by  flowers 
of  such  a  hue.  Even  perfume,  which  otherwise  is  the 
soul  and  spirit  of  a  flower,  may  be  spared  when  it 
arrays  itself  in  this  scarlet  glory.  It  is  a  flower  of 
thought  and  feeling,  too ;  it  seems  to  have  its  roots 
deep  down  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  gaze  at  it. 
Other  bright  flowers  sometimes  impress  me  as  wanting 
sentiment ;  but  it  is  not  so  with  this. 

Well,  having  made  up  my  bunch  of  flowers,  I  re 
turn  home  with  them.  .  .  .  Then  I  ascend  to  my 
study,  and  generally  read,  or  perchance  scribble  in  this 
journal,  and  otherwise  suffer  Time  to  loiter  onward 
at  his  own  pleasure,  till  the  dinner-hour.  In  pleasant 
days,  the  chief  event  of  the  afternoon,  and  the  hap 
piest  one  of  the  day,  is  our  walk.  ...  So  comes  the 
night ;  and  I  look  back  upon  a  day  spent  in  what  the 
world  would  call  idleness,  and  for  which  I  myself  can 
suggest  no  more  appropriate  epithet,  but  which,  never 
theless,  I  cannot  feel  to  have  been  spent  amiss.  True, 
it  might  be  a  sin  and  shame,  in  such  a  world  as  ours, 
to  spend  a  lifetime  in  this  manner ;  but  for  a  few  sum 
mer  weeks  it  is  good  to  live  as  if  this  world  were 
heaven.  And  so  it  is,  and  so  it  shall  be,  although,  in 
a  little  while,  a  flitting  shadow  of  earthly  care  and  toil 
will  mingle  itself  with  our  realities. 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  303 

Monday,  August  \5tJi*  —  George  Hillard  and  Ms 
wife  arrived  from  Boston  in  the  dusk  of  Saturday 
evening,  to  spend  Sunday  with  us.  It  was  a  pleasant 
sensation,  when  the  coach  rumbled  up  our  avenue,  and 
wheeled  round  at  the  door  ;  for  I  felt  that  I  was  re 
garded  as  a  man  with  a  household,  —  a  man  having  a 
tangible  existence  and  locality  in  the  world,  —  when 
friends  came  to  avail  themselves  of  our  hospitality. 
It  was  a  sort  of  acknowledgment  and  reception  of  us 
into  the  corps  of  married  people,  —  a  sanction  by  no 
means  essential  to  our  peace  and  well-being,  but  yet 
agreeable  enough  to  receive.  So  we  welcomed  them 
cordially  at  the  door,  and  ushered  them  into  our  par 
lor,  and  soon  into  the  supper-room.  .  .  .  The  night 
flitted  over  us  all,  and  passed  away,  and  up  rose  a 
gray  and  sullen  morning,  .  .  .  and  we  had  a  splen 
did  breakfast  of  flapjacks,  or  slapjacks,  and  whortle 
berries,  which  I  gathered  on  a  neighboring  hill,  and 
perch,  bream,  and  pout,  which  I  hooked  out  of  the 
river  the  evening  before.  About  nine  o'clock,  Hillard 
and  I  set  out  for  a  walk  to  Walden  Pond,  calling  by 
the  way  at  Mr.  Emerson's,  to  obtain  his  guidance  or 
directions,  and  he  accompanied  us  in  his  own  illustri 
ous  person.  We  turned  aside  a  little  from  our  way, 

to  visit  Mr. ,   a  yeoman,  of  whose  homely  and 

self-acquired  wisdom  Mr.  Emerson  has  a  very  high 
opinion.  We  found  him  walking  in  his  fields,  a  short 
and  stalwart  and  sturdy  personage  of  middle  age,  with 
a  face  of  shrewd  and  kind  expression,  and  manners  of 
natural  courtesy.  He  had  a  very  free  flow  of  talk  ; 
for,  with  a  little  induction  from  Mr.  Emerson,  he  be 
gan  to  discourse  about  the  state  of  the  nation,  agricul 
ture,  and  business  in  general,  uttering  thoughts  that 
had  come  to  him  at  the  plough,  and  which  had  a  sort 


304  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842. 

of  flavor  of  the  fresh  earth  about  them.  His  views 
were  sensible  and  characteristic,  and  had  grown  in  the 
soil  where  we  found  them  ;  .  .  .  and  he  is  certainly 
a  man  of  intellectual  and  moral  substance,  a  sturdy 
fact,  a  reality,  something  to  be  felt  and  touched,  whose 
ideas  seem  to  be  dug  out  of  his  mind  as  he  digs  pota 
toes,  beets,  carrots,  and  turnips  out  of  the  ground. 

After  leaving  Mr. ,  we  proceeded  through  wood- 

paths  to  Walden  Pond,  picking  blackberries  of  enor 
mous  size  along  the  way.  The  pond  itself  was  beau 
tiful  and  refreshing  to  my  soul,  after  such  long  and 
exclusive  familiarity  with  our  tawny  and  sluggish 
river.  It  lies  embosomed  among  wooded  hills,  —  it  is 
not  very  extensive,  but  large  enough  for  waves  to 
dance  upon  its  surface,  and  to  look  like  a  piece  of 
blue  firmament,  earth-encircled.  The  shore  has  a  nar 
row,  pebbly  strand,  which  it  was  worth  a  day's  jour 
ney  to  look  at,  for  the  sake  of  the  contrast  between  it 
and  the  weedy,  oozy  margin  of  the  river.  Farther 
within  its  depths,  you  perceive  a  bottom  of  pure  white 
sand,  sparkling  through  the  transparent  water,  which, 
methought,  was  the  very  purest  liquid  in  the  world. 
After  Mr.  Emerson  left  us,  Hillard  and  I  bathed  in 
the  pond,  and  it  does  really  seem  as  if  my  spirit,  as 
well  as  corporeal  person,  were  refreshed  by  that  bath. 
A  good  deal  of  mud  and  river  slime  had  accumulated 
on  my  soul ;  but  these  bright  waters  washed  them  all 
away. 

We  returned  home  in  due  season  for  dinner.  .  .  . 
To  my  misfortune,  however,  a  box  of  Mediterranean 
wine  proved  to  have  undergone  the  acetous  fermenta 
tion  ;  so  that  the  splendor  of  the  festival  suffered  some 
diminution.  Nevertheless,  we  ate  our  dinner  with  a 
good  appetite,  and  afterwards  went  universally  to  take 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  305 

our  several  siestas.  Meantime  there  came  a  shower, 
which  so  besprinkled  the  grass  and  shrubbery  as  to 
make  it  rather  wet  for  our  after-tea  ramble.  The  chief 
result  of  the  walk  was  the  bringing  home  of  an  im 
mense  burden  of  the  trailing  clematis- vine,  now  just 
in  blossom,  and  with  which  all  our  flower-stands  and 
vases  are  this  morning  decorated.  On  our  return 

we  found  Mr.  and  Mrs.  S ,  and  E.  H ,  who 

shortly  took  their  leave,  and  we  sat  up  late,  telling 
ghost-stories.  This  morning,  at  seven,  our  friends  left 
us.  We  were  both  pleased  with  the  visit,  and  so,  I 
think,  were  our  guests. 


Monday,  August  22d.  —  I  took  a  walk  through  the 
woods  yesterday  afternoon,  to  Mr.  Emerson's,  with  a 
book  which  Margaret  Fuller  had  left,  after  a  call  on 
Saturday  eve.  I  missed  the  nearest  way,  and  wan 
dered  into  a  very  secluded  portion  of  the  forest ;  for 
forest  it  might  justly  be  called,  so  dense  and  sombre 
was  the  shade  of  oaks  and  pines.  Once  I  wandered 
into  a  tract  so  overgrown  with  bushes  and  underbrush 
that  I  could  scarcely  force  a  passage  through.  Noth 
ing  is  more  annoying  than  a  walk  of  this  kind,  where 
one  is  tormented  by  an  innumerable  host  of  petty 
impediments.  It  incenses  and  depresses  me  at  the 
same  time.  Always  when  I  flounder  into  the  midst  of 
bushes,  which  cross  and  intertwine  themselves  about 
my  legs,  and  brush  my  face,  and  seize  hold  of  my 
clothes,  with  their  multitudinous  grip,  —  always,  in 
such  a  difficulty,  I  feel  as  if  it  were  almost  as  well  to 
lie  down  and  die  in  rage  and  despair  as  to  go  one  step 
farther.  It  is  laughable,  after  I  have  got  out  of  the 
moil,  to  think  how  miserably  it  affected  me  for  the 

VOL.  IX.  20 


306  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842. 

moment ;  but  I  had  better  learn  patience  betimes,  for 
there  are  many  such  bushy  tracts  in  this  vicinity,  on 
the  margins  of  meadows,  and  my  walks  will  often  lead 
me  into  them.  Escaping  from  the  bushes,  I  soon  caine 
to  an  open  space  among  the  woods,  —  a  very  lovely 
spot,  with  the  tall  old  trees  standing  around  as  quietly 
as  if  no  one  had  intruded  there  throughout  the  whole 
summer.  A  company  of  crows  were  holding  their  Sab 
bath  on  their  summits.  Apparently  they  felt  them 
selves  injured  or  insulted  by  my  presence  ;  for,  with 
one  consent,  they  began  to  Caw !  caw !  caw !  and, 
launching  themselves  sullenly  on  the  air,  took  flight 
to  some  securer  solitude.  Mine,  probably,  was  the 
first  human  shape  that  they  had  seen  all  day  long,  — 
at  least,  if  they  had  been  stationary  in  that  spot ;  but 
perhaps  they  had  winged  their  way  over  miles  and 
miles  of  country,  had  breakfasted  on  the  summit  of 
Graylock,  and  dined  at  the  base  of  Wachusett,  and 
were  merely  come  to  sup  and  sleep  among  the  quiet 
woods  of  Concord.  But  it  was  my  impression  at  the 
time,  that  they  had  sat  still  and  silent  on  the  tops  of 
the  trees  all  through  the  Sabbath  day,  and  I  felt  like 
one  who  should  unawares  disturb  an  assembly  of  wor 
shippers.  A  crow,  however,  has  no  real  pretensions 
to  religion,  in  spite  of  his  gravity  of  mien  and  black 
attire.  Crows  are  certainly  thieves,  and  probably  in 
fidels.  Nevertheless,  their  voices  yesterday  were  in 
admirable  accordance  with  the  influences  of  the  quiet, 
sunny,  warm,  yet  autumnal  afternoon.  They  were  so 
far  above  my  head  that  their  loud  clamor  added  to  the 
quiet  of  the  scene,  instead  of  disturbing  it.  There 
was  no  other  sour.d,  except  the  song  of  the  cricket, 
which  is  but  an  audible  stillness  ;  for,  though  it  be 
very  loud  and  heard  afar,  yet  the  mind  does  not  take 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  307 

note  of  it  as  a  sound,  so  entirely  does  it  mingle  and 
lose  its  individuality  among  the  other  characteristics 
of  coming  autumn.  Alas  for  the  summer !  The  grass 
is  still  verdant  on  the  hills  and  in  the  valleys ;  the  foli 
age  of  the  trees  is  as  dense  as  ever,  and  as  green ;  the 
flowers  are  abundant  along  the  margin  of  the  river, 
and  in  the  hedge-rows,  and  deep  among  the  woods ; 
the  days,  too,  are  as  fervid  as  they  were  a  month  ago  • 
and  yet  in  every  breath  of  wind  and  in  every  beam  of 
sunshine  there  is  an  autumnal  influence.  I  know  not 
how  to  describe  it.  Methinks  there  is  a  sort  of  cool 
ness  amid  all  the  heat,  and  a  mildness  in  the  brightest 
of  the  sunshine.  A  breeze  cannot  stir  without  thrill 
ing  me  with  the  breath  of  autumn,  and  I  behold  its 
pensive  glory  in  the  far,  golden  gleams  among  the  long 
shadows  of  the  trees.  The  flowers,  even  the  brightest 
of  them,  — the  golden-rod  and  the  gorgeous  cardinals, 
—  the  most  glorious  flowers  of  the  year,  —  have  this 
gentle  sadness  amid  their  pomp.  Pensive  autumn  is 
expressed  in  the  glow  of  every  one  of  them.  I  have 
felt  this  influence  earlier  in  some  years  than  in  others. 
Sometimes  autumn  may  be  perceived  even  in  the  early 
days  of  July.  There  is  no  other  feeling  like  that 
caused  by  this  faint,  doubtful,  yet  real  perception,  or 
rather  prophecy,  of  the  year's  decay,  so  deliciously 
sweet  and  sad  at  the  same  time. 

After  leaving  the  book  at  Mr.  Emerson's  I  returned 
through  the  woods,  and,  entering  Sleepy  Hollow,  I 
perceived  a  lady  reclining  near  the  path  which  bends 
along  its  verge.  It  was  Margaret  herself.  She  had 
been  there  the  whole  afternoon,  meditating  or  reading ; 
for  she  had  a  book  in  her  hand,  with  some  strange 
title,  which  I  did  not  understand,  and  have  forgotten. 
She  said  that  nobody  had  broken  her  solitude,  and 


AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842 

was  just  giving  utterance  to  a  theory  that  no  inhabi 
tant  of  Concord  ever  visited  Sleepy  Hollow,  when  we 
saw  a  group  of  people  entering  the  sacred  precincts. 
Most  of  them  followed  a  path  which  led  them  away 
from  us ;  but  ah  old  man  passed  near  us,  and  smiled 
to  see  Margaret  reclining  on  the  ground,  and  me  sit 
ting  by  her  side.  He  made  some  remark  about  the 
beauty  of  the  afternoon,  and  withdrew  himself  into  the 
shadow  of  the  wood.  Then  we  talked  about  autumn, 
and  about  the  pleasures  of  being  lost  in  the  woods,  and 
about  the  crows,  whose  voices  Margaret  had  heard , 
and  about  the  experiences  of  early  childhood,  whose 
influence  remains  upon  the  character  after  the  recol 
lection  of  them  has  passed  away  ;  and  about  the  sight 
of  mountains  from  a  distance,  and  the  view  from  their 
summits ;  and  about  other  matters  of  high  and  low 
philosophy.  In  the  midst  of  our  talk,  we  heard  foot 
steps  above  us,  on  the  high  bank ;  and  while  the  per 
son  was  still  hidden  among  the  trees,  he  called  to  Mar 
garet,  of  whom  he  had  gotten  a  glimpse.  Then  he 
emerged  from  the  green  shade,  and,  behold !  it  was 
Mr.  Emerson.  He  appeared  to  have  had  a  pleasant 
time ;  for  he  said  that  there  were  Muses  in  the  woods 
to-day,  and  whispers  to  be  heard  in  the  breezes.  It  be* 
ing  now  nearly  six  o'clock,  we  separated,  —  Margaret 
and  Mr.  Emerson  towards  his  home,  and  I  towards 
mine.  .  .  . 

Last  evening  there  was  the  most  beautiful  moon 
light  that  ever  hallowed  this  earthly  world  ;  and  when 
I  went  to  bathe  in  the  river,  which  was  as  calm  as 
death,  it  seemed  like  plunging  down  into  the  sky.  But 
I  had  rather  be  on  earth  than  even  in  the  seventh 
heaven,  just  now. 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  309 

Wednesday,  August  Mth.  —  I  left  home  at  five 
o'clock  this  morning  to  catch  some  fish  for  breakfast. 
I  shook  our  summer  apple-tree,  and  ate  the  golden  ap 
ple  which  fell  from  it.  Methinks  these  early  apples, 
which  come  as  a  golden  promise  before  the  treasures 
of  autumnal  fruit,  are  almost  more  delicious  than  any 
thing  that  comes  afterwards.  We  have  but  one  such 

O 

tree  in  our  orchard;  but  it  supplies  us  with  a  daily 
abundance,  and  probably  will  do  so  for  at  least  a  week 
to  come.  Meantime  other  trees  begin  to  cast  their 
ripening  windfalls  upon  the  grass ;  and  when  I  taste 
them,  and  perceive  their  mellowed  flavor  and  blacken 
ing  seeds,  I  feel  somewhat  overwhelmed  with  the  im 
pending  bounties  of  Providence.  I  suppose  Adam,  in 
Paradise,  did  not  like  to  see  his  fruits  decaying  on  the 
ground,  after  he  had  watched  them  through  the  sunny 
days  of  the  world's  first  summer.  However,  insects, 
at  the  worst,  will  hold  a  festival  upon  them,  so  that 
they  will  not  be  thrown  away,  in  the  great  scheme  of 
Nature.  Moreover,  I  have  one  advantage  over  the 
primeval  Adam,  inasmuch  as  there  is  a  chance  of  dis 
posing  of  my  superfluous  fruits  among  people  who  in 
habit  no  Paradise  of  their  own. 

Passing  a  little  way  down  along  the  river-side,  I 
threw  in  my  line,  and  soon  drew  out  one  of  the  small 
est  possible  of  fishes.  It  seemed  to  be  a  pretty  good 
morning  for  the  angler,  —  an  autumnal  coolness  in  the 
air,  a  clear  sky,  but  with  a  fog  across  the  lowlands 
and  on  the  surface  of  the  river,  which  a  gentle  breeze 
sometimes  condensed  into  wreaths.  At  first,  I  could 
barely  discern  the  opposite  shore  of  the  river ;  but,  as 
the  sun  arose,  the  vapors  gradually  dispersed,  till  only 
a  warm,  smoky  tint  was  left  along  the  water's  surface. 
The  farm-houses  across  the  river  made  their  appear 


310  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842 

ance  out  of  the  dusky  cloud ;  the  voices  of  boys  were 
heard,  shouting  to  the  cattle  as  they  drove  them  to  the 
pastures ;  a  man  whetted  his  scythe,  and  set  to  work 
in  a  neighboring  meadow.  Meantime,  I  continued  to 
stand  on  the  oozy  margin  of  the  stream,  beguiling  the 
little  fish;  and  though  the  scaly  inhabitants  of  our 
river  partake  somewhat  of  the  character  of  their  na 
tive  element,  and  are  but  sluggish  biters,  still  I  con 
trived  to  pull  out  not  far  from  two  dozen.  They  were 
all  bream,  a  broad,  flat,  almost  circular  fish,  shaped 
a  good  deal  like  a  flounder,  but  swimming  on  their 
edges,  instead  of  on  their  sides.  As  far  as  mere  pleas 
ure  is  concerned,  it  is  hardly  worth  while  to  fish  in  our 
river,  it  is  so  much  like  angling  in  a  mud-puddle  ;  and 
one  does  not  attach  the  idea  of  freshness  and  purity  to 
the  fishes,  as  we  do  to  those  which  inhabit  swift,  trans 
parent  streams,  or  haunt  the  shores  of  the  great  briny 
deep.  Standing  on  the  weedy  margin,  and  throwing 
the  line  over  the  elder-bushes  that  dip  into  the  water, 
it  seems  as  if  we  could  catch  nothing  but  frogs  and 
mud-turtles,  or  reptiles  akin  to  them.  And  even  when 
a  fish  of  reputable  aspect  is  drawn  out,  one  feels  a 
shyness  about  touching  him.  As  to  our  river,  its  char 
acter  was  admirably  expressed  last  night  by  some  one 
who  said  "  it  was  too  lazy  to  keep  itself  clean."  I 
might  write  pages  and  pages,  and  only  obscure  the  im 
pression  which  this  brief  sentence  conveys.  Neverthe 
less,  we  made  bold  to  eat  some  of  my  fish  for  break 
fast,  and  found  them  very  savory ;  and  the  rest  shall 
meet  with  due  entertainment  at  dinner,  together  with 
some  shell-beans,  green  corn,  and  cucumbers  from  our 
garden ;  so  this  day's  food  comes  directly  and  entirely 
from  beneficent  Nature,  without  the  intervention  ol 
third  person  between  her  and  us. 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  311 

Saturday,  August  21th.  —  A  peach-tree,  which 
grows  beside  our  house  and  brushes  against  the  win 
dow,  is  so  burdened  with  fruit  that  I  have  had  to  prop 
it  up.  I  never  saw  more  splendid  peaches  in  appear 
ance, —  great,  round,  crimson-cheeked  beauties,  clus 
tering  all  over  the  tree.  A  pear-tree,  likewise,  is  ma* 
taring  a  generous  burden  of  small,  sweet  fruit,  which 
will  require  to  be  eaten  at  about  the  same  time  as  the 
peaches.  There  is  something  pleasantly  annoying  in 
this  superfluous  abundance ;  it  is  like  standing  under 
a  tree  of  ripe  apples,  and  giving  it  a  shake,  with  the 
intention  of  bringing  down  a  single  one,  when,  behold, 
a  dozen  come  thumping  about  our  ears.  But  the  idea 
of  the  infinite  generosity  and  exhaustless  bounty  of 
our  Mother  Nature  is  well  worth  attaining;  and  I 
never  had  it  so  vividly  as  now,  when  I  find  myself; 
with  the  few  mouths  which  I  am  to  feed,  the  sole  in 
heritor  of  the  old  clergyman's  wealth  of  fruits.  His 
children,  his  friends  in  the  village,  and  the  clerical 
guests  who  came  to  preach  in  his  pulpit,  were  all  wont 
to  eat  and  be  filled  from  these  trees.  Now,  all  these 
hearty  old  people  have  passed  away,  and  in  their  stead 
is  a  solitary  pair,  whose  appetites  are  more  than  satis 
fied  with  the  windfalls  which  the  trees  throw  down  at 
their  feet.  Howbeit,  we  shall  have  now  and  then  a 
guest  to  keep  our  peaches  and  pears  from  decaying. 

G.  B ,  my  old  fellow-laborer  at  the  community 

at  Brook  Farm,  called  on  me  last  evening,  and  dined 
here  to-day.  He  has  been  cultivating  vegetables  at 
Plymouth  this  summer,  and  selling  them  in  the  mar 
ket.  What  a  singular  mode  of  life  for  a  man  of  edu 
cation  and  refinement,  —  to  spend  his  days  in  hard 
and  earnest  bodily  toil,  and  then  to  convey  the  prod 
ucts  of  his  labor,  in  a  wheelbarrow,  to  the  public 


312  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842 

ket,  and  there  retail  them  out,  —  a  peck  of  peas  01 
beans,  a  bunch  of  turnips,  a  squash,  a  dozen  ears  oi 
green  corn !  Few  men,  without  some  eccentricity  oJ 
character,  would  have  the  moral  strength  to  do  this 
and  it  is  very  striking  to  find  such  strength  combinec 
with  the  utmost  gentleness,  and  an  uncommon  regu 
larity  of  nature.  Occasionally  he  returns  for  a  day  01 
two  to  resume  his  place  among  scholars  and  idle  peo 
pie,  as,  for  instance,  the  present  week,  when  he  hai 
thrown  aside  his  spade  and  hoe  to  attend  the  Com 
mencement  at  Cambridge.  He  is  a  rare  man,  —  i 
perfect  original,  yet  without  any  one  salient  point ;  { 
character  to  be  felt  and  understood,  but  almost  impos 
sible  to  describe ;  for,  should  you  seize  upon  any  char 
acteristic,  it  would  inevitably  be  altered  and  distortec 
in  the  process  of  writing  it  down. 

Our  few  remaining  days  of  summer  have  been  lat 
terly  grievously  darkened  with  clouds.  To-day  ther< 
has  been  an  hour  or  two  of  hot  sunshine ;  but  the  sui 
rose  amid  cloud  and  mist,  and  before  he  could  dry  u] 
the  moisture  of  last  night's  shower  upon  the  trees  am 
grass,  the  clouds  have  gathered  between  him  and  u 
again.  This  afternoon  the  thunder  rumbles  in  the  dis 
tance,  and  I  believe  a  few  drops  of  rain  have  fallen 
but  the  weight  of  the  shower  has  burst  elsewhere,  lea\ 
ing  us  nothing  but  its  sullen  gloom.  There  is  a  mugg; 
warmth  in  the  atmosphere,  which  takes  all  the  spring 
and  vivacity  out  of  the  mind  and  body. 

Sunday,  August  28th.  —  Still  another  rainy  day,— 
the  heaviest  rain,  I  believe,  that  has  fallen  since  w 
came  to  Concord  (not  two  months  ago).     There  neve 
was  a  more  sombre  aspect  of  all  external  nature, 
gaze  from  the  open  window  of  my  study  somewhat  dig 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  818 

consolately,  and  observe  the  great  willow-tree  which 
shades  the  house,  and  which  has  caught  and  retained 
a  whole  cataract  of  rain  among  its  leaves  and  boughs ; 
and  all  the  fruit-trees,  too,  are  dripping  continually, 
even  in  the  brief  intervals  when  the  clouds  give  us  a 
respite.     If  shaken  to  bring  down  the  fruit,  they  will 
discharge  a  shower  upon  the  head  of  him  who  stands 
beneath.     The  rain  is  warm,  coming  from  some  south 
ern  region ;  but  the  willow  attests  that  it  is  an  au 
tumnal  spell  of  weather,  by  scattering  down  no  infre 
quent  multitude  of  yellow  leaves,  which  rest  upon  the 
sloping  roof  of  the  house,  and  strew  the  gravel-path 
and  the  grass.     The  other  trees  do  not  yet  shed  their 
leaves,  though  in  some  of  them  a  lighter  tint  of  ver 
dure,  tending  towards  yellow,  is  perceptible.     All  day 
long  we  hear  the  water  drip,  drip,  dripping,  splash, 
splash,  splashing,  from  the  eaves,  and  babbling  and 
foaming  into  the  tubs  which  have  been  set  out  to  re 
ceive  it.     The  old  uripainted  shingles  and  boards  of 
the  mansion  and  out-houses  are  black  with  the  mois 
ture  which  they  have  imbibed.     Looking  at  the  river, 
we  perceive  that  its  usually  smooth  and  mirrored  sur 
face  is  blurred  by  the  infinity  of  rain-drops ;  the  whole 
landscape  —  grass,  trees,  and  houses  —  has  a  com 
pletely  water-soaked  aspect,  as  if  the  earth  were  wet 
through.      The   wooded   hill,    about   a   mile   distant, 
whither  we  went  to  gather  whortleberries,  has  a  mist 
upon  its  summit,  as  if  the  demon  of  the  rain  were  en 
throned  there ;  and  if  we  look  to  the  sky,  it  seems  as 
if  all  the  water  that  had  been  poured  down  upon  us 
were  as  nothing  to  what  is  to  come.     Once  in  a  while, 
indeed,  there  is  a  gleam  of  sky  along  the  horizon,  or  a 
Jhalf -cheerful,  half -sullen  lighting  up  of   the  atmos 
phere  ;   the  rain-drops  cease  to  patter  down,  except 


814  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842. 

when  the  trees  shake  off  a  gentle  shower ;  but  soon  we 
hear  the  broad,  quiet,  slow,  and  sure  recommencement 
of  the  rain.  The  river,  if  I  mistake  not,  has  risen 
considerably  during  the  day,  and  its  current  will  ac 
quire  some  degree  of  energy. 

In  this  sombre  weather,  when  some  mortals  almost 
forget  that  there  ever  was  any  golden  sunshine,  or  ever 
will  be  any  hereafter,  others  seem  absolutely  to  radiate 
it  from  their  own  hearts  and  minds.  The  gloom  can 
not  pervade  them  ;  they  conquer  it,  and  drive  it  quite 
out  of  their  sphere,  and  create  a  moral  rainbow  of 
hope  upon  the  blackest  cloud.  As  for  myself,  I  am 
little  other  than  a  cloud  at  such  seasons,  but  such  per 
sons  contrive  to  make  me  a  sunny  one,  shining  all 
through  me.  And  thus,  even  without  the  support  of  a 
stated  occupation,  I  survive  these  sullen  days  and  am 
happy. 

This  morning  we  read  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount. 
In  the  course  of  the  forenoon,  the  rain  abated  for 
u  season,  and  I  went  out  and  gathered  some  corn 
and  summer -squashes,  and  picked  up  the  windfalls 
of  apples  and  pears  and  peaches.  Wet,  wet,  wet,  — 
everything  was  wet ;  the  blades  of  the  corn-stalks 
moistened  me  ;  the  wet  grass  soaked  my  boots  quite 
through  ;  the  trees  threw  their  reserved  showers  upon 
my  head ;  and  soon  the  remorseless  rain  began  anew, 
and  drove  me  into  the  house.  When  shall  we  be  able 
to  walk  again  to  the  far  hills,  and  plunge  into  the  deep 
woods,  and  gather  more  cardinals  along  the  river's 
margin  ?  The  track  along  which  we  trod  is  probably 
under  water  now.  How  inhospitable  Nature  is  during 
a  rain !  In  the  fervid  heat  of  sunny  days,  she  still 
retains  some  degree  of  mercy  for  us  ;  she  has  shady 
spots,  whither  the  sun  cannot  come ;  but  she  provides 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  315 

no  shelter  against  her  storms.  It  makes  one  shiver 
to  think  how  dripping  with  wet  are  those  deep,  um 
brageous  nooks,  those  overshadowed  banks,  where  we 
find  such  enjoyment  during  sultry  afternoons.  And 
what  becomes  of  the  birds  in  such  a  soaking  rain  as 
this  ?  Is  hope  and  an  instinctive  faith  so  mixed  up 
with  their  nature  that  they  can  be  cheered  by  the 
thought  that  the  sunshine  will  return?  or  do  they 
think,  as  I  almost  do,  that  there  is  to  be  no  sunshine 
any  more  ?  Very  disconsolate  must  they  be  among 
the  dripping  leaves ;  and  when  a  single  summer  makes 
so  important  a  portion  of  their  Iive3,  it  seems  hard 
that  so  much  of  it  should  be  dissolved  in  rain.  I,  like 
wise,  am  greedy  of  the  summer  days  for  my  own  sake ; 
the  life  of  man  does  not  contain  so  many  of  them  that 
one  can  be  spared  without  regret. 

Tuesday,  August  30^.  —  I  was  promised,  in  the 
midst  of  Sunday's  rain,  that  Monday  should  be  fair, 
and,  behold!  the  sun  came  back  to  us,  and  brought 
one  of  the  most  perfect  days  ever  made  since  Adam 
was  driven  out  of  Paradise.  By  the  by,  was  there 
ever  any  rain  in  Paradise?  If  so,  how  comfortless 
must  Eve's  bower  have  been!  and  what  a  wretched 
and  rheumatic  time  must  they  have  had  on  their  bed 
of  wet  roses  !  It  makes  me  shiver  to  think  of  it. 
Well,  it  seemed  as  if  the  world  was  newly  created 
yesterday  morning,  and  I  beheld  its  birth ;  for  I  had 
risen  before  the  sun  was  over  the  hill,  and  had  gone 
forth  to  fish.  How  instantaneously  did  all  dreariness 
and  heaviness  of  the  earth's  spirit  flit  away  before  one 
smile  of  the  beneficent  sun !  This  proves  that  all 
gloom  is  but  a  dream  and  a  shadow,  and  that  cheer 
fulness  is  the  real  truth.  It  requires  many  clouds, 


316  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842 

long  brooding  over  us,  to  make  us  sad,  but  one  gleam 
of  sunshine  always  suffices  to  cheer  up  the  landscape. 
The  banks  of  the  river  actually  laughed  when  the  sun 
shine  fell  upon  them ;  and  the  river  itself  was  alive  and 
cheerful,  and,  by  way  of  fun  and  amusement,  it  had 
swept  away  many  wreaths  of  meadow-hay,  and  old,  rot 
ten  branches  of  trees,  and  all  such  trumpery.  These 
matters  came  floating  downwards,  whirling  round  and 
round  in  the  eddies,  or  hastening  onward  in  the  main 
current;  and  many  of  them,  before  this  time,  have 
probably  been  carried  into  the  Merrimack,  and  will 
be  borne  onward  to  the  sea.  The  spots  where  I  stood 
to  fish,  on  my  preceding  excursion,  were  now  under 
water;  and  the  tops  of  many  of  the  bushes,  along 
the  river's  margin,  barely  emerged  from  the  stream. 
Large  spaces  of  meadow  are  overflowed. 

There  was  a  northwest-wind  throughout  the  day; 
and  as  many  clouds,  the  remnants  of  departed  gloom, 
were  scattered  about  the  sky,  the  breeze  was  continu 
ally  blowing  them  across  the  sun.  For  the  most  part, 
they  were  gone  again  in  a  moment ;  but  sometimes  the 
shadow  remained  long  enough  to  make  me  dread  a  re 
turn  of  sulky  weather.  Then  would  come  the  burst  of 
sunshine,  making  me  feel  as  if  a  rainy  day  were  hence 
forth  an  impossibility.  .  .  . 

in  the  afternoon  Mr.  Emerson  called,  bringing  Mr. 

.     He  is  a  good  sort  of  humdrum  parson  enough, 

and  well  fitted  to  increase  the  stock  of  manuscript  ser 
mons,  of  which  there  must  be  a  fearful  quantity  al 
ready  in  the  world.  Mr. ,  however,  is  probably 

one  of  the  best  and  most  useful  of  his  class,  because  no 
suspicion  of  the  necessity  of  his  profession,  constituted 
as  it  now  is,  to  mankind,  and  of  his  own  usefulness 
and  success  in  it,  has  hitherto  disturbed  him ;  and 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  317 

therefore,  he  labors  with  faith  and  confidence,  as  min 
isters  did  a  hundred  years  ago. 

After  the  visitors  were  gone,  I  sat  at  the  gallery 
window,  looking  down  the  avenue  ;  and  soon  there  ap 
peared  an  elderly  woman,  —  a  homely,  decent  old  ma 
tron,  dressed  in  a  dark  gown,  and  with  what  seemed  a 
manuscript  book  under  her  arm.  The  wind  sported 
with  her  gown,  and  blew  her  veil  across  her  face,  and 
seemed  to  make  game  of  her,  though  on  a  nearer  view 
she  looked  like  a  sad  old  creature,  with  a  pale,  thin 
countenance,  and  somewhat  of  a  wild  and  wandering 
expression.  She  had  a  singular  gait,  reeling,  as  it  were, 
and  yet  not  quite  reeling,  from  one  side  of  the  path  to 
the  other ;  going  onward  as  if  it  were  not  much  matter 
whether  she  went  straight  or  crooked.  Such  were  my 
observations  as  she  approached  through  the  scattered 
sunshine  and  shade  of  our  long  avenue,  until,  reaching 
the  door,  she  gave  a  knock,  and  inquired  for  the  lady 
of  the  house.  Her  manuscript  contained  a  certificate, 
stating  that  the  old  woman  was  a  widow  from  a  for 
eign  land,  who  had  recently  lost  her  son,  and  was  now 
utterly  destitute  of  friends  and  kindred,  and  without 
means  of  support.  Appended  to  the  certificate  there 
was  a  list  of  names  of  people  who  had  bestowed  char 
ity  on  her,  with  the  amounts  of  the  several  dona 
tions,  —  none,  as  I  recollect,  higher  than  twenty-five 
cents.  Here  is  a  strange  life,  and  a  character  fit  for 
romance  and  poetry.  All  the  early  part  of  her  life,  I 
suppose,  and  much  of  her  widowhood,  were  spent  in 
the  quiet  of  a  home,  with  kinsfolk  around  her,  and 
children,  and  the  lifelong  gossiping  acquaintances  that 
some  women  always  create  about  them.  But  in  her  de 
cline  she  has  wandered  away  from  all  these,  and  from 
her  native  country  itself,  and  is  a  vagrant,  yet  witb 


318  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842. 

something  of  the  homeliness  and  decency  of  aspect  be 
longing  to  one  who  has  been  a  wife  and  mother,  and 
has  had  a  roof  of  her  own  above  her  head,  —  and,  with 
all  this,  a  wildness  proper  to  her  present  life.  I  have 
a  liking  for  vagrants  of  all  sorts,  and  never,  that  I 
know  of,  refused  my  mite  to  a  wandering  beggar,  when 
I  had  anything  in  my  own  pocket.  There  is  so  much 
wretchedness  in  the  world,  that  we  may  safely  take  the 
word  of  any  mortal  professing  to  need  our  assistance  ; 
and,  even  should  we  be  deceived,  still  the  good  to  our 
selves  resulting  from  a  kind  act  is  worth  more  than 
the  trifle  by  which  we  purchase  it.  It  is  desirable,  I 
think,  that  such  persons  should  be  permitted  to  roam 
through  our  land  of  plenty,  scattering  the  seeds  of  ten 
derness  and  charity,  as  birds  of  passage  bear  the  seeds 
of  precious  plants  from  land  to  land,  without  even 
dreaming  of  the  office  which  they  perform. 

Thursday,  September  1st.  —  Mr.  Thoreau  dined 
with  us  yesterday.  .  .  .  He  is  a  keen  and  delicate  ob 
server  of  nature,  —  a  genuine  observer,  —  which,  I 
suspect,  is  almost  as  rare  a  character  as  even  an  orig 
inal  poet ;  and  Nature,  in  return  for  his  love,  seems  to 
adopt  him  as  her  especial  child,  and  shows  him  secrets 
which  few  others  are  allowed  to  witness.  He  is  famil 
iar  with  beast,  fish,  fowl,  and  reptile,  and  has  strange 
stories  to  tell  of  adventures  and  friendly  passages  with 
these  lower  brethren  of  mortality.  Herb  and  flower, 
likewise,  wherever  they  grow,  whether  in  garden  or 
wildwood,  are  his  familiar  friends.  He  is  also  on  in 
timate  terms  with  the  clouds,  and  can  tell  the  portents 
of  storms.  It  is  a  characteristic  trait,  that  he  has  a 
great  regard  for  the  memory  of  the  Indian  tribes, 
whose  wild  life  would  have  suited  him  so  well ;  and, 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  319 

strange  to  say,  he  seldom  walks  over  a  ploughed  field 
without  picking  up  an  arrow-point,  spear-head,  or  other 
relic  of  the  red  man,  as  if  their  spirits  willed  him  to  be 
the  inheritor  of  their  simple  wealth. 

With  all  this  he  has  more  than  a  tincture  of  litera 
ture,  —  a  deep  and  true  taste  for  poetry,  especially  for 
the  elder  poets,  and  he  is  a  good  writer,  —  at  least  he 
has  written  a  good  article,  a  rambling  disquisition  on 
Natural  History,  in  the  last  "  Dial,"  which,  he  says, 
was  chiefly  made  up  from  journals  of  his  own  observa 
tions.  Methinks  this  article  gives  a  very  fair  image  of 
his  mind  and  character,  —  so  true,  innate,  and  literal 
in  observation,  yet  giving  the  spirit  as  well  as  letter  of 
what  he  sees,  even  as  a  lake  reflects  its  wooded  banks, 
showing  every  leaf,  yet  giving  the  wild  beauty  of  the 
whole  scene.  Then  there  are  in  the  article  passages 
of  cloudy  and  dreamy  metaphysics,  and  also  passages 
where  his  thoughts  seem  to  measure  and  attune  them 
selves  into  spontaneous  verse,  as  they  rightfully  may, 
since  there  is  real  poetry  in  them.  There  is  a  basis 
of  good  sense  and  of  moral  truth,  too,  throughout  the 
article,  which  also  is  a  reflection  of  his  character  ;  for 
he  is  not  unwise  to  think  and  feel,  and  I  find  him  a 
healthy  and  wholesome  man  to  know. 

After  dinner  (at  which  we  cut  the  first  watermelon 
and  muskmelon  that  our  garden  has  grown),  Mr.  Tho 
reau  and  I  walked  up  the  bank  of  the  river,  and  at  a 
certain  point  he  shouted  for  his  boat.  Forthwith  a 
young  man  paddled  it  across,  and  Mr.  Thoreau  and  I 
voyaged  farther  up  the  stream,  which  soon  became 
more  beautiful  than  any  picture,  with  its  dark  and 
quiet  sheet  of  water,  half  shaded,  half  sunny,  between 
high  and  wooded  banks.  The  late  rains  have  swollen 
the  stream  so  much  that  many  trees  are  standing  up 


S20  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842. 

to  their  knees,  as  it  were,  in  the  water,  and  boughs, 
which  lately  swung  high  in  air,  now  dip  and  drink 
deep  of  the  passing  wave.  As  to  the  poor  cardinals 
which  glowed  upon  the  bank  a  few  days  since,  I  could 
see  only  a  few  of  their  scarlet  hats,  peeping  above  the 
tide.  Mr.  Thoreau  managed  the  boat  so  perfectly, 
either  with  two  paddles  or  with  one,  that  it  seemed  in 
stinct  with  his  own  will,  and  to  require  no  physical 
effort  to  guide  it.  He  said  that,  when  some  Indians 
visited  Concord  a  few  years  ago,  he  found  that  he  had 
acquired,  -without  a  teacher,  their  precise  method  of 
propelling  and  steering  a  canoe.  Nevertheless  he  was 
desirous  of  selling  the  boat  of  which  he  was  so  fit  a 
pilot,  and  which  was  built  by  his  own  hands;  so  I 
agreed  to  take  it,  and  accordingly  became  possessor  of 
the  Musketaquid.  I  wish  I  could  acquire  the  aquatic 
skill  of  the  original  owner. 

September  2d,  —  Yesterday  afternoon  Mr.  Thoreau 
arrived  with  the  boat.  The  adjacent  meadow  being 
overflowed  by  the  rise  of  the  stream,  he  had  rowed  di 
rectly  to  the  foot  of  the  orchard,  and  landed  at  the 
bars,  after  floating  over  forty  or  fifty  yards  of  water 
where  people  were  lately  making  hay.  I  entered  the 
boat  with  him,  in  order  to  have  the  benefit  of  a  lesson 
in  rowing  and  paddling.  ...  I  managed,  indeed,  to 
propel  the  boat  by  rowing  with  two  oars,  but  the  use 
of  the  single  paddle  is  quite  beyond  my  present  skill. 
Mr.  Thoreau  had  assured  me  that  it  was  only  neces 
sary  to  will  the  boat  to  go  in  any  particular  direction, 
and  she  would  immediately  take  that  course,  as  if  im 
bued  with  the  spirit  of  the  steersman.  It  may  be  so 
with  him,  but  it  is  certainly  not  so  with  me.  The 
boat  seemed  to  be  bewitched,  and  turned  its  head  to 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  321 

every  point  of  the  compass  except  the  right  one.  He 
then  took  the  paddle  himself,  and,  though  I  could  ob 
serve  nothing  peculiar  in  his  management  of  it,  the 
Musketaquid  immediately  became  as  docile  as  a  trained 
steed.  I  suspect  that  she  has  not  yet  transferred  her 
affections  from  her  old  master  to  her  new  one.  By 
and  by,  when  we  are  better  acquainted,  she  will  grow 
more  tractable.  .  .  .  We  propose  to  change  her  name 
from  Musketaquid  (the  Indian  name  of  the  Concord 
River,  meaning  the  river  of  meadows)  to  the  Pond- 
Lily,  which  will  be  very  beautiful  and  appropriate,  as, 
during  the  summer  season,  she  will  bring  home  many 
a  cargo  of  pond-lilies  from  along  the  river's  weedy 
shore.  It  is  not  very  likely  that  I  shall  make  such 
long  voyages  in  her  as  Mr.  Thoreau  has  made.  He 
once  followed  our  river  down  to  the  Merrimack,  and 
thence,  I  believe,  to  Newburyport  in  this  little  craft. 

In  the  evening, called  to  see  us,  wishing 

to  talk  with  me  about  a  Boston  periodical,  of  which  he 
had  heard  that  I  was  to  be  editor,  and  to  which  he 
desired  to  contribute.  He  is  an  odd  and  clever  young 
man,  with  nothing  very  peculiar  about  him,  —  some 
originality  and  self  -  inspiration  in  his  character,  but 
none,  or,  very  little,  in  his  intellect.  Nevertheless,  the 
lad  himself  seems  to  feel  as  if  he  were  a  genius.  I 
like  him  well  enough,  however;  but,  after  all,  these 
originals  in  a  small  way,  after  one  has  seen  a  few  of 
them,  become  more  dull  and  commonplace  than  even 
those  who  keep  the  ordinary  pathway  of  life.  They 
have  a  rule  and  a  routine,  which  they  follow  with  as 
little  variety  as  other  people  do  their  rule  and  routine ; 
and  when  once  we  have  fathomed  their  mystery,  noth 
ing  can  be  more  wearisome.  An  innate  perception 

VOL.   IX.  31 


322  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1841 

and  reflection  of  truth  give  the  only  sort  of  originality 
that  does  not  finally  grow  intolerable., 

/September  4th.  —  I  made  a  voyage  in  the  Pond- 
Lily  all  by  myself  yesterday  morning,  and  was  much 
encouraged  by  my  success  in  causing  the  boat  to  go 
whither  I  would.  I  have  always  liked  to  be  afloat, 
but  I  think  I  have  never  adequately  conceived  of  the 
enjoyment  till  now,  when  I  begin  to  feel  a  power  over 
that  which  supports  me.  I  suppose  I  must  have  felt 
something  like  this  sense  of  triumph  when  I  first 
learned  to  swim  ;  but  I  have  forgotten  it.  Oh  that  I 
could  run  wild  I  —  that  is,  that  I  could  put  myself 
into  a  true  relation  with  Nature,  and  be  on  friendly 
terms  with  all  congenial  elements. 

We  had  a  thunder-storm  last  evening ;  and  to-day 
has  been  a  cool,  breezy,  autumnal  day,  such  as  my  soul 
and  body  love. 

September  ~LSth.  —  How  the  summer-time  flits  away, 
even  while  it  seems  to  be  loitering  onward,  arm  in  arm 
with  autumn  !  Of  late  I  have  walked  but  little  over 
the  hills  and  through  the  woods,  my  leisure  being 
chiefly  occupied  with  my  boat,  which  I  have  now 
learned  to  manage  with  tolerable  skill.  Yesterday 
afternoon  I  made  a  voyage  alone  up  the  North  Branch 
of  Concord  Eiver.  There  was  a  strong  west-wind 
blowing  dead  against  me,  which,  together  with  the 
current,  increased  by  the  height  of  the  water,  made 
the  first  part  of  the  passage  pretty  toilsome.  The 
black  river  was  all  dimpled  over  with  little  eddies  and 
whirlpools ;  and  the  breeze,  moreover,  caused  the  bil 
lows  to  beat  against  the  bow  of  the  boat,  with  a  sound 
like  the  flapping  of  a  bird's  wing.  The  water-weeds. 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  323 

where  they  were  discernible  through  the  tawny  water, 
were  straight  outstretched  by  the  force  of  the  current^ 
looking  as  if  they  were  forced  to  hold  on  to  their  roots 
with  all  their  might.  If  for  a  moment  I  desisted  from 
paddling,  the  head  of  the  boat  was  swept  round  by  the 
combined  might  of  wind  and  tide.  However,  I  toiled 
onward  stoutly,  and,  entering  the  North  Branch,  soon 
found  myself  floating  quietly  along  a  tranquil  stream, 
sheltered  from  the  breeze  by  the  woods  and  a  lofty 
hill.  The  current,  likewise,  lingered  along  so  gently 
that  it  was  merely  a  pleasure  to  propel  the  boat  against 
it.  I  never  could  have  conceived  that  there  was  so 
beautiful  a  river-scene  in  Concord  as  this  of  the  Nortti 
Branch.  The  stream  flows  through  the  midmost  pri 
vacy  and  deepest  heart  of  a  wood,  which,  as  if  but  half 
satisfied  with  its  presence,  calm,  gentle,  and  unobtru 
sive  as  it  is,  seems  to  crowd  upon  it,  and  barely  to  al 
low  it  passage ;  for  the  trees  are  rooted  on  the  very 
verge  of  the  water,  and  dip  their  pendent  branches 
into  it.  On  one  side  there  is  a  high  bank,  forming 
the  side  of  a  hill,  the  Indian  name  of  which  I  have 
forgotten,  though  Mr.  Thoreau  told  it  to  me  ;  and  here, 
in  some  instances,  the  trees  stand  leaning  over  the 
river,  stretching  out  their  arms  as  if  about  to  plunge 
in  headlong.  On  the  other  side,  the  bank  is  almost 
on  a  level  with  the  water ;  and  there  the  quiet  congre 
gation  of  trees  stood  with  feet  in  the  flood,  and  fringed 
with  foliage  down  to  its  very  surface.  Vines  here  and 
there  twine  themselves  about  bushes  or  aspens  or  alder- 
trees,  and  hang  their  clusters  (though  scanty  and  in 
frequent  this  season)  so  that  I  can  reach  them  from 
my  boat.  I  scarcely  remember  a  scene  of  more  com 
plete  and  lovely  seclusion  than  the  passage  of  the  river 
through  this  wood.  Even  an  Indian  canoe,  in  olden 


324  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842, 

times,  could  not  have  floated  onward  in  deeper  soli 
tude  than  my  boat.  I  have  never  elsewhere  had  such 
an  opportunity  to  observe  how  much  more  beautiful 
reflection  is  than  what  we  call  reality.  The  sky,  and 
fehe  clustering  foliage  on  either  hand,  and  the  effect  of 
sunlight  as  it  found  its  way  through  the  shade,  giv 
ing  lightsome  hues  in  contrast  with  the  quiet  depth  of 
the  prevailing  tints,  —  all  these  seemed  unsurpassabiy 
beautiful  when  beheld  in  upper  air.  But  on  gazing 
downward,  there  they  were,  the  same  even  to  the  mi 
nutest  particular,  yet  arrayed  in  ideal  beauty,  which 
satisfied  the  spirit  incomparably  more  than  the  actual 
scene.  I  am  half  convinced  that  the  reflection  is  in 
deed  the  reality,  the  real  thing  which  Nature  imper 
fectly  images  to  our  grosser  sense.  At  any  rate,  the 
disembodied  shadow  is  nearest  to  the  soul. 

There  were  many  tokens  of  autumn  in  this  beauti 
ful  picture.  Two  or  three  of  the  trees  were  actually 
dressed  in  their  coats  of  many  colors,  —  the  real  scar 
let  and  gold  which  they  wear  before  they  put  on 
mourning.  These  stood  on  low,  marshy  spots,  where 
a  frost  has  probably  touched  them  already.  Others 
were  of  a  light,  fresh  green,  resembling  the  hues  of 
spring,  though  this,  likewise,  is  a  token  of  decay. 
The  great  mass  of  the  foliage,  however,  appears  un 
changed  ;  but  ever  and  anon  down  came  a  yellow  leaf, 
half  flitting  upon  the  air,  half  falling  through  it,  and 
finally  settling  upon  the  water.  A  multitude  of  these 
were  floating  here  and  there  along  the  river,  many  of 
them  curling  upward,  so  as  to  form  little  boats,  fit  for 
fairies  to  voyage  in.  They  looked  strangely  pretty, 
with  yet  a  melancholy  prettiness,  as  they  floated  along. 
The  general  aspect  of  the  river,  however,  differed  but 
little  from  that  of  summer*  —  at  least  the  difference 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  325 

defies  expression.  It  is  more  in  the  character  of  the 
rich  yellow  sunlight  than  in  aught  else.  The  water  of 
the  stream  has  now  a  thrill  of  autumnal  coolness  •,  yet 
whenever  a  broad  gleam  fell  across  it,  through  an  in 
terstice  of  the  foliage,  multitudes  of  insects  were  dart 
ing  to  and  fro  upon  its  surface.  The  sunshine,  thus 
falling  across  the  dark  river,  has  a  most  beautiful  ef 
fect.  It  burnishes  it,  as  it  were,  and  yet  leaves  it  as 
dark  as  ever. 

On  my  return,  I  suffered  the  boat  to  float  almost  of 
its  own  will  down  the  stream,  and  caught  fish  enough 
for  this  morning's  breakfast.  But,  partly  from  a 
qualm  of  conscience,  I  finally  put  them  all  into  the 
water  again,  and  saw  them  swim  away  as  if  nothing 
had  happened. 

Monday,  October  10^.  —  A  long  while,  indeed, 
since  my  last  date.  But  the  weather  has  been  gener 
ally  sunny  and  pleasant,  though  often  very  cold ;  and 
I  cannot  endure  to  waste  anything  so  precious  as  au 
tumnal  sunshine  by  staying  in  the  house.  So  I  have 
spent  almost  all  the  daylight  hours  in  the  open  air. 
My  chief  amusement  has  been  boating  up  and  down 
the  river.  A  week  or  two  ago  (September  27  and 
28)  I  went  011  a  pedestrian  excursion  with  Mr.  Emer 
son,  and  was  gone  two  days  and  one  night,  it  being 
the  first  and  only  night  that  I  have  spent  away  from 
home.  We  were  that  night  at  the  village  of  Harvard, 
and  the  next  morning  walked  three  miles  farther,  to 
the  Shaker  village,  where  we  breakfasted.  Mr0  Emer 
son  had  a  theological  discussion  with  two  of  the 
Shaker  brethren ;  but  the  particulars  of  it  have  faded 
from  my  memory  ;  and  all  the  other  adventures  of  the 
tour  have  now  so  lost  their  freshness  that  I  ca.nnot  ad- 


826  AMERICAN  NOTEBOOKS.  [1842. 

equatcly  recall  them.  Wherefore  let  them  rest  un 
told.  I  recollect  nothing  so  well  as  the  aspect  of 
some  fringed  gentians,  which  we  saw  growing  by  the 
roadside,  and  which  were  so  beautiful  that  I  longed  to 
turn  back  and  pluck  them.  After  an  arduous  jour 
ney,  we  arrived  safe  home  in  the  afternoon  of  the  sec 
ond  day,  — -  the  first  time  that  I  ever  came  home  in  my 
life  ;  for  I  never  had  a  home  before.  On  Saturday  of 

the  same  week,  my  friend  D.  E came  to  see  us, 

and  stayed  till  Tuesday  morning.  On  Wednesday 
there  was  a  cattle-show  in  the  village,  of  which  I 
would  give  a  description,  if  it  had  possessed  any  pict 
uresque  points.  The  foregoing  are  the  chief  outward 
events  of  our  life. 

In  the  mean  time  autumn  has  been  advancing,  and 
is  said  to  be  a  month  earlier  than  usual.  We  had 
frosts,  sufficient  to  kill  the  bean  and  squash  vines, 
more  than  a  fortnight  ago ;  but  there  has  since  been 
some  of  the  most  delicious  Indian -summer  weather 
that  I  ever  experienced,  —  mild,  sweet,  perfect  days, 
in  which  the  warm  sunshine  seemed  to  embrace  the 
earth  and  all  earth's  children  with  love  and  tender 
ness.  Generally,  however,  the  bright  days  have  been 
vexed  with  winds  from  the  northwest,  somewhat  too 
keen  and  high  for  comfort.  These  winds  have  strewn 
our  avenue  with  withered  leaves,  although  the  trees 
still  retain  some  density  of  foliage,  which  is  now  im- 
browned  or  otherwise  variegated  by  autumn.  Our  ap 
ples,  too,  have  been  falling,  falling,  falling ;  and  we 
have  picked  the  fairest  of  them  from  the  dewy  grass, 
and  put  them  in  our  store-room  and  elsewhere.  On 
Thursday,  John  Flint  began  to  gather  those  which  re 
mained  on  the  trees  ;  and  I  suppose  they  will  amount 
to  nearly  twenty  barrels,  or  perhaps  more.  As  usual 


1842.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  327 

when  I  have  anything  to  sell,  apples  are  very  low  in- 
deed  in  price,  and  will  not  fetch  me  more  than  a  dol 
lar  a  barrel.  I  have  sold  my  share  of  the  potato-field 
for  twenty  dollars  and  ten  bushels  of  potatoes  for  my 
own  use.  This  may  suffice  for  the  economical  history 
of  our  recent  life. 

12  o'clock,  M.  —  Just  now  I  heard  a  sharp  tapping 
at  the  window  of  my  study,  and,  looking  up  from  my 
book  (a  volume  of  Rabelais),  behold !  the  head  of  a 
little  bird,  who  seemed  to  demand  admittance !  He 
was  probably  attempting  to  get  a  fly,  which  was  on  the 
pane  of  glass  against  which  he  rapped ;  and  on  my 
first  motion  the  feathered  visitor  took  wing.  This  in 
cident  had  a  curious  effect  on  me.  It  impressed  me 
as  if  the  bird  had  been  a  spiritual  visitant,  so  strange 
was  it  that  this  little  wild  thing  should  seem  to  ask 
our  hospitality. 

November  8th.  —  I  am  sorry  that  our  journal  has 
fallen  so  into  neglect ;  but  I  see  no  chance  of  amend 
ment.  All  my  scribbling  propensities  will  be  far  more 
than  gratified  in  writing  nonsense  for  the  press ;  so 
that  any  gratuitous  labor  of  the  pen  becomes  pecul 
iarly  distasteful.  Since  the  last  date,  we  have  paid  a 
visit  of  nine  days  to  Boston  and  Salem,  whence  we  re 
turned  a  week  ago  yesterday.  Thus  we  lost  above  a 
week  of  delicious  autumnal  weather,  which  should  have 
been  spent  in  the  woods  or  upon  the  river.  Ever  since 
our  return,  however,  until  to-day,  there  has  been  a 
succession  of  genuine  Indian  -  summer  days,  with  gen 
tle  winds,  or  none  at  all,  and  a  misty  atmosphere, 
which  idealizes  all  nature,  and  a  mild,  beneficent  sun 
shine,  inviting  one  to  lie  down  in  a  nook  and  forget 


328  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1842 

all  earthly  care.  To-day  the  sky  is  dark  and  lower 
ing,  and  occasionally  lets  fall  a  few  sullen  tears,  1 
suppose  we  must  bid  farewell  to  Indian  summer  new, 
and  expect  no  more  love  and  tenderness  from  Mother 
Nature  till  next  spring  be  well  advanced.  She  has 
already  made  herself  as  unlovely  in  outward  aspect  as 
can  well  be.  We  took  a  walk  to  Sleepy  Hollow  yes* 
terday,  and  beheld  scarcely  a  green  thing,  except  the 
everlasting  verdure  of  the  family  of  pines,  which,  in 
deed,  are  trees  to  thank  God  for  at  this  season.  A 
range  of  young  birches  had  retained  a  pretty  liberal 
coloring  of  yellow  or  tawny  leaves,  which  became  very 
cheerful  in  the  sunshine.  There  were  one  or  two  oak- 
trees  whose  foliage  still  retained  a  deep,  dusky  red, 
which  looked  rich  and  warm ;  but  most  of  the  oaks 
had  reached  the  last  stage  of  autumnal  decay,  —  the 
dusky  brown  hue.  Millions  of  their  leaves  strew  the 
woods  and  rustle  underneath  the  foot ;  but  enough  re 
main  upon  the  boughs  to  make  a  melancholy  harping 
when  the  wind  sweeps  over  them.  We  found  some 
fringed  gentians  in  the  meadow,  most  of  them  blighted 
and  withered  ;  but  a  few  were  quite  perfect.  The 
other  day,  since  our  return  from  Salem,  I  found  a  vio 
let  ;  yet  it  was  so  cold  that  day,  that  a  large  pool  of 
water,  under  the  shadow  of  some  trees,  had  remained 
frozen  from  morning  till  afternoon.  The  ice  was  so 
thick  as  not  to  be  broken  by  some  sticks  and  small 
stones  which  I  threw  upon  it.  But  ice  and  snow  too 
will  soon  be  no  extraordinary  matters  with  us. 

During  the  last  week  we  have  had  three  stoves  put 
up,  and  henceforth  no  light  of  a  cheerful  fire  will  glad 
den  us  at  eventide.  Stoves  are  detestable  in  every 
respect,  except  that  they  keep  us  perfectly  comfort 
able, 


1843.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  329 

Thursday,  November  24th.  —  This  is  Thanksgiving 
Day,  a  good  old  festival,  and  we  have  kept  it  with  our 
hearts,  and,  besides,  have  made  good  cheer  upon  our 
turkey  and  pudding,  and  pies  and  custards,  although 
none  sat  at  our  board  but  our  two  selves.  There  was 
a  new  and  livelier  sense,  I  think,  that  we  have  at  last 
found  a  home,  and  that  a  new  family  has  been  gath 
ered  since  the  last  Thanksgiving  Day.  There  have 
been  many  bright,  cold  days  latterly,  —  so  cold  that  it 
has  required  a  pretty  rapid  pace  to  keep  one's  self 
warm  a-walking.  Day  before  yesterday  I  saw  a  party 
of  boys  skating  on  a  pond  of  water  that  has  overflowed 
a  neighboring  meadow.  Running  water  has  not  yet 
frozen.  Vegetation  has  quite  come  to  a  stand,  except 
in  a  few  sheltered  spots.  In  a  deep  ditch  we  found  a 
tall  plant  of  the  freshest  and  healthiest  green,  which 
looked  as  if  it  must  have  grown  within  the  last  few 
weeks.  We  wander  among  the  wood-paths,  which  are 
very  pleasant  in  the  sunshine  of  the  afternoons,  the 
trees  looking  rich  and  warm,  —  such  of  them,  I  mean, 
as  have  retained  their  russet  leaves  ;  and  where  the 
leaves  are  strewn  along  the  paths,  or  heaped  plenti 
fully  in  some  hollow  of  the  hills,  the  effect  is  not  with 
out  a  charm.  To-day  the  morning  rose  with  rain, 
which  has  since  changed  to  snow  and  sleet ;  and  now 
the  landscape  is  as  dreary  as  can  well  be  imagined, 
—  white,  with  the  brownness  of  the  soil  and  withered 
grass  everywhere  peeping  out.  The  swollen  river,  of 
a  leaden  hue,  drags  itself  sullenly  along ;  and  this  may 
be  termed  the  first  winter's  day. 

Friday,  March  31st,  1843.  —  The  first  month  of 
spring  is  already  gone ;  and  still  the  snow  lies  deep  on 
hill  and  valley,  and  the  river  is  still  frozen  from  barJf 


330  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [184* 

to  bank,  although  a  late  rain  has  caused  pools  of  watel 
to  stand  on  the  surface  of  the  ice,  and  the  meadows 
are  overflowed  into  broad  lakes.  Such  a  protracted 
winter  has  not  been  known  for  twenty  years,  at  least 
I  have  almost  forgotten  the  wood -paths  and  shady 
places  which  I  used  to  know  so  well  last  summer ;  and 
my  views  are  so  much  confined  to  the  interior  of  our 
mansion,  that  sometimes,  looking  out  of  the  window, 
I  am  surprised  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  houses,  at  no 
great  distance,  which  had  quite  passed  out  of  my  rec 
ollection.  From  present  appearances,  another  month 
may  scarcely  suffice  to  wash  away  all  the  snow  from 
the  open  country  ;  and  in  the  woods  and  hollows  it 
may  linger  yet  longer.  The  winter  will  not  have  been 
a  day  less  than  five  months  long ;  and  it  would  not  be 
unfair  to  call  it  seven.  A  great  space,  indeed,  to  miss 
the  smile  of  Nature,  in  a  single  year  of  human  life. 
Even  out  of  the  midst  of  happiness  I  have  sometimes 
sighed  and  groaned  ;  for  I  love  the  sunshine  and  the 
green  woods,  and  the  sparkling  blue  water;  and  it 
seems  as  if  the  picture  of  our  inward  bliss  should  be 
set  in  a  beautiful  frame  of  outward  nature.  ...  As  to 
the  daily  course  of  our  life,  I  have  written  with  pretty 
commendable  diligence,  averaging  from  two  to  four 
hours  a  day  ;  and  the  result  is  seen  in  various  maga 
zines.  I  might  have  written  more,  if  it  had  seemed 
worth  while,  but  I  was  content  to  earn  only  so  much 
gold  as  might  suffice  for  our  immediate  wants,  having 
prospect  of  official  station  and  emolument  which  would 
do  away  with  the  necessity  of  writing  for  bread.  Those 
prospects  have  not  yet  had  their  fulfilment ;  and  we 
are  well  content  to  wait,  because  an  office  would  inev 
itably  remove  us  from  our  present  happy  home,  —  at 
least  from  an  outward  home ;  for  there  is  an  inner  one 


1843.]  AMERICAN-  NOTEBOOKS.  331 

that  will  accompany  us  wherever  we  go.  Meantime, 
the  magazine  people  do  not  pay  their  debts ;  so  that 
we  taste  some  of  the  inconveniences  of  poverty.  It  is 
an  annoyance,  not  a  trouble. 

Every  day,  I  trudge  through  snow  and  slosh  to  the 
village,  look  into  the  post-office,  and  spend  an  hour  at 
the  reading  -  room ;  and  then  return  home,  generally 
without  having  spoken  a  word  to  a  human  being.  .  .  e 
In  the  way  of  exercise  I  saw  and  split  wood,  and,  phys 
ically,  I  never  was  in  a  better  condition  than  now0 
This  is  chiefly  owing,  doubtless,  to  a  satisfied  heart,  in 
aid  of  which  comes  the  exercise  above  mentioned,  and 
about  a  fair  proportion  of  intellectual  labor. 

On  the  9th  of  this  month,  we  left  home  again  on  a 
visit  to  Boston  and  Salem.  I  alone  went  to  Salem, 
where  I  resumed  all  my  bachelor  habits  for  nearly  a 
fortnight,  leading  the  same  life  in  which  ten  years  of 
my  youth  flitted  away  like  a  dream.  But  how  much 
changed  was  I !  At  last  I  had  caught  hold  of  a  real 
ity  which  never  could  be  taken  from  me.  Itjwas  good 
thus  to  get  apart  from  my  happiness,  for  the  sake  of 
contemplating  it.  On  the  21st,  I  returned  to  Boston, 
and  went  out  to  Cambridge  to  dine  with  Longfellow, 
whom  I  had  not  seen  since  his  return  from  Europe. 
The  next  day  we  came  back  to  our  old  house,  which 
had  been  deserted  all  this  time ;  for  our  servant  had 
gone  with  us  to  Boston. 

Friday,  April  1th.  —  My  wife  has  gone  to  Boston 

to  see  her  sister  M ,  who  is  to  be  married  in  two 

or  three  weeks,  and  then  immediately  to  visit  Europe 
for  six  months.  ...  I  betook  myself  to  sawing  and 
splitting  wood  ;  there  being  an  inward  unquietness 
which  demanded  active  exercise,  and  I  sawed,  I  think, 


832  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1843. 

more  briskly  than  ever  before.  When  I  reentered 
the  house,  it  was  with  somewhat  of  a  desolate  feeling ; 
yet  not  without  an  intermingled  pleasure,  as  being  the 
more  conscious  that  all  separation  was  temporary,  and 
scarcely  real,  even  for  the  little  time  that  it  may  last. 
After  my  solitary  dinner,  I  lay  down,  with  the  "  Dial" 
in  my  hand,  and  attempted  to  sleep  ;  but  sleep  would 
not  come.  ...  So  I  arose,  and  began  this  record  in  the 
journal,  almost  at  the  commencement  of  which  I  was 
interrupted  by  a  visit  from  Mr.  Thoreau,  who  came  to 
return  a  book,  and  to  announce  his  purpose  of  going  to 
reside  at  Staten  Island,  as  private  tutor  in  the  family 
of  Mr.  Emerson's  brother.  We  had  some  conversation 
upon  this  subject,  and  upon  the  spiritual  advantages 
of  change  of  place,  and  upon  the  "Dial,"  and  upon 
Mr.  Alcott,  and  other  kindred  or  concatenated  sub 
jects.  I  am  glad,  on  Mr.  Thoreau's  own  account,  that 
he  is  going  away,  as  he  is  out  of  health,  and  may  be 
benefited  by  his  removal ;  but,  on  my  account,  I  should 
like  to  have  him  remain  here,  he  being  one  of  the  few 
persons,  J  think,  with  whom  to  hold  intercourse  is  like 
hearing  the  wind  among  the  boughs  of  a  forest-tree ; 
and,  with  all  this  wild  freedom,  there  is  high  and 
classic  cultivation  in  him  too.  .  .  . 

I  had  a  purpose,  if  circumstances  would  permit,  of 
passing  the  whole  term  of  my  wife's  absence  without 
speaking  a  word  to  any  human  being ;  but  now  my 
Pythagorean  vow  has  been  broken,  within  three  or 
four  hours  after  her  departure. 

Saturday,  April  8th.  —  After  journalizing  yester< 
day  afternoon,  I  went  out  and  sawed  and  split  wood 
till  tea-time,  then  studied  German  (translating  "Le« 
nore"),  with  an  occasional  glance  at  a  beautiful  sun 


1843.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  333 

set,  which  I  could  not  enjoy  sufficiently  by  myself  to 
induce  me  to  lay  aside  the  book.  After  lamplight,  fin 
ished  "  Lenore,"  and  drowsed  over  Voltaire's  "  Can- 
dide,"  occasionally  refreshing  myself  with  a  tune  from 
Mr.  Thoreau's  musical-box,  which  he  had  left  in  my 
keeping.  The  evening  was  but  a  dull  one. 

I  retired  soon  after  nine,  and  felt  some  apprehen 
sion  that  the  old  Doctor's  ghost  would  take  this  op 
portunity  to  visit  me ;  but  I  rather  think  his  former 
visitations  have  not  been  intended  for  me,  and  that  I 
am  not  sufficiently  spiritual  for  ghostly  communication. 
At  all  events,  I  met  with  no  disturbance  of  the  kind, 
and  slept  soundly  enough  till  six  o'clock  or  thereabouts. 
The  forenoon  was  spent  with  the  pen  in  my  hand,  and 
sometimes  I  had  the  glimmering  of  an  idea,  and  en 
deavored  to  materialize  it  in  words ;  but  on  the  whole 
my  mind  was  idly  vagrant,  and  refused  to  work  to  any 
systematic  purpose.  Between  eleven  and  twelve  I 
went  to  the  post-office,  but  found  no  letter ;  then  spent 
above  an  hour  reading  at  the  Athenaeum.  On  my 
way  home,  I  encountered  Mr.  Flint,  for  the  first  time 
these  many  weeks,  although  he  is  our  next  neighbor  in 
one  direction.  I  inquired  if  he  could  sell  us  some 
potatoes,  and  he  promised  to  send  half  a  bushel  for 
trial.  Also,  he  encouraged  me  to  hope  that  he  might 
buy  a  barrel  of  our  apples.  After  my  encounter  with 
Mr.  Flint,  I  returned  to  our  lonely  old  abbey,  opened 
the  door  without  the  usual  heart-spring,  ascended  to 
my  study,  and  began  to  read  a  tale  of  Tieck.  Slow 
work,  and  dull  work  too  !  Anon,  Molly,  the  cook, 
rang  the  bell  for  dinner,  —  a  sumptuous  banquet  of 
stewed  veal  and  macaroni,  to  which  I  sat  down  in 
solitary  state.  My  appetite  served  me  sufficiently  to 
eat  with,  but  not  for  enjoyment.  Nothing  has  a  zest 


3S4  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1843 

in  my  present  widowed  state.  [Thus  far  I  had  writ 
ten,  when  Mr.  Emerson  called.]  After  dinner,  I  lay 
down  on  the  couch,  with  the  "  Dial "  in  my  hand  aa 
a  soporific,  and  had  a  short  nap ;  then  began  to  jour 
nalize. 

Mr,  Emerson  came,  with  a  sunbeam  in  his  face  j, 
and  we  had  as  good  a  talk  as  I  ever  remember  to  have 
had  with  him.  He  spoke  of  Margaret  Fuller,  who,  he 
says,  has  risen  perceptibly  into  a  higher  state  since 
their  last  meeting.  [There  rings  the  tea-bell.]  Then 
we  discoursed  of  Ellery  Charming,  a  volume  of  whose 
poems  is  to  be  immediately  published,  with  revisions 
by  Mr.  Emerson  himself  and  Mr.  Sam  G.  Ward.  .  .  . 
He  calls  them  "  poetry  for  poets."  Next  Mr.  Thoreau 
was  discussed,  and  his  approaching  departure  ;  in  re 
spect  to  which  we  agreed  pretty  well.  .  .  .  We  talked 
of  Brook  Farm,  and  the  singular  moral  aspects  which 
it  presents,  and  the  great  desirability  that  its  progress 
and  developments  should  be  observed  and  its  history 

written  ;  also  of  C.  N ,  who,  it  appears,  is  passing 

through  a  new  moral  phasis.  He  is  silent,  inexpres 
sive,  talks  little  or  none,  and  listens  without  response, 
except  a  sardonic  laugh ;  and  some  of  his  friends 
think  that  he  is  passing  into  permanent  eclipse.  Va 
rious  other  matters  were  considered  or  glanced  at,  and 
finally,  between  five  and  six  o'clock,  Mr.  Emerson 
took  his  leave.  I  then  went  out  to  chop  wood,  my 
allotted  space  for  which  had  been  very  much  abridged 
by  his  visit ;  but  I  was  not  sorry.  I  went  on  with  the 
journal  for  a  few  minutes  before  tea,  and  have  finished 
the  present  record  in  the  setting  sunshine  and  gather 
ing  dusk.  .  .  . 

Salem.  — ...  Here  I   am,   in   my  old   chamber, 


1843.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  335 

where  I  produced  those  stupendous  works  of  fiction 
which  have  since  impressed  the  universe  with  wonder 
ment  and  awe !  To  this  chamber,  doubtless,  in  all 
succeeding  ages,  pilgrims  will  come  to  pay  their  trib 
ute  of  reverence ;  they  will  put  off  their  shoes  at  the 
threshold  for  fear  of  desecrating  the  tattered  old  car 
pets  !  "  There,"  they  will  exclaim,  "  is  the  very  bed 
in  which  he  slumbered,  and  where  he  was  visited  by 
those  ethereal  visions  which  he  afterwards  fixed  for 
ever  in  glowing  words !  There  is  the  wash-stand  at 
which  this  exalted  personage  cleansed  himself  from 
the  stains  of  earth,  and  rendered  his  outward  man  a 
fitting  exponent  of  the  pure  soul  within.  There,  in 
its  mahogany  frame,  is  the  dressing-glass,  which  often 
reflected  that  noble  brow,  those  hyacinthine  locks,  that 
mouth  bright  with  smiles  or  tremulous  with  feeling, 
that  flashing  or  melting  eye,  that  —  in  short,  every 
item  of  the  magnanimous  face  of  this  unexampled 
man.  There  is  the  pine  table,  —  there  the  old  flag- 
bottomed  chair  on  which  he  sat,  and  at  which  he 
scribbled,  during  his  agonies  of  inspiration  !  There 
is  the  old  chest  of  drawers  in  which  he  kept  what 
shirts  a  poor  author  may  be  supposed  to  have  pos 
sessed  !  There  is  the  closet  in  which  was  reposited 
his  threadbare  suit  of  black !  There  is  the  worn-out 
shoe-brush  with  which  this  polished  writer  polished 
his  boots.  There  is "  —  but  I  believe  this  will  be 
pretty  much  all,  so  here  I  close  the  catalogue.  .  .  . 

A  cloudy  veil  stretches  over  the  abyss  of  my  nature. 
I  have,  however,  no  love  of  secrecy  and  darkness.  I 
am  glad  to  think  that  God  sees  through  my  heart, 
and,  if  any  angel  has  power  to  penetrate  into  it,  he  is 
welcome  to  know  everything  that  is  there.  Yes,  and 
BO  may  any  mortal  who  is  capable  of  full  sympathy 


836  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1843. 

and  therefore  worthy  to  come  into  my  depths.  But 
he  must  find  his  own  way  there.  I  can  neither  guide 
nor  enlighten  him.  It  is  this  involuntary  reserve,  I 
suppose,  that  has  given  the  objectivity  to  my  writings ; 
and  when  people  think  that  I  am  pouring  myself  out 
in  a  tale  or  an  essay,  I  am  merely  telling  what  is  com 
mon  to  human  nature,  not  what  is  peculiar  to  myself 
I  sympathize  with  them,  not  they  with  me.  .  .  . 

I  have  recently  been  both  lectured  about  and 
preached  about  here  in  my  native  city ;  the  preacher 
was  Rev.  Mr.  Fox,  of  Newburyport;  but  how  he  con 
trived  to  put  me  into  a  sermon  I  know  not.  I  trust 
he  took  for  his  text,  "  Behold  an  Israelite  indeed,  in 
whom  there  is  no  guile." 

Salem,  March  Vtih.  — .  •  .  That  poor  home  !  how 
desolate  it  is  now!  Last  night,  being  awake,  .  .  . 
my  thoughts  travelled  back  to  the  lonely  old  manse ; 
and  it  seemed  as  if  I  were  wandering  up  stairs  and 
down  stairs  all  by  myself.  My  fancy  was  almost 
afraid  to  be  there  alone.  I  could  see  every  object  in 
a  dim,  gray  light,  —  our  chamber,  the  study,  all  in  con 
fusion  ;  the  parlor,  with  the  fragments  of  that  abortive 
breakfast  on  the  table,  and  the  precious  silver  forks,  and 
the  old  bronze  image,  keeping  its  solitary  stand  upon 
the  mantel-piece.  Then,  methought,  the  wretched  Vig- 
wiggie  came,  and  jumped  upon  the  window-sill,  and 
clung  there  with  her  fore  paws,  mewing  dismally  for 
admittance,  which  I  could  not  grant  her,  being  there 
myself  only  in  the  spirit.  And  then  came  the  ghost 
of  the  old  Doctor,  stalking  through  the  gallery,  and 
down  the  staircase,  and  peeping  into  the  parlor ;  and 
though  I  was  wide  awake,  and  conscious  of  being  so 
many  miles  from  the  spot,  still  it  was  quite  awful  tc 


1843. J  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  337 

think  of  the  ghost  having  sole  possession  of  our  home ; 
for  I  could  not  quite  separate  myself  from  it,  after  all. 
Somehow  the  Doctor  and  I  seemed  to  be  there  tete-a- 
tete.  ...  I  believe  I  did  not  have  any  fantasies  about 
the  ghostly  kitchen-maid ;  but  I  trust  Mary  left  the 
flat-irons  within  her  reach,  so  that  she  may  do  all  her 
ironing  while  we  are  away,  and  never  disturb  us  more 
at  midnight.  I  suppose  she  comes  thither  to  iron  her 
shroud,  and  perhaps,  likewise,  to  smooth  the  Doctor's 
band.  Probably,  during  her  lifetime,  she  allowed  him 
to  go  to  some  ordination  or  other  grand  clerical  cele 
bration  with  rumpled  linen  ;  and  ever  since,  and 
throughout  all  earthly  futurity  (at  least,  as  long  as 
the  house  shall  stand),  she  is  doomed  to  exercise  a 
nightly  toil  with  a  spiritual  flat-iron.  Poor  sinner !  — 
and  doubtless  Satan  heats  the  irons  for  her.  What 
nonsense  is  all  this!  but,  really,  it  does  make  me 
shiver  to  think  of  that  poor  home  of  ours. 

March  \§th.  — ...  As  for  this  Mr. ,  I  wish 

he  would  not  be  so  troublesome.  His  scheme  is  well 
enough,  and  might  possibly  become  popular  ;  but  it 
has  no  peculiar  advantages  with  reference  to  myself, 
nor  do  the  subjects  of  his  proposed  books  particularly 
suit  my  fancy  as  themes  to  write  upon.  Somebody 
else  will  answer  his  purpose  just  as  well ;  and  I  would 
rather  write  books  of  my  own  imagining  than  be  hired 
to  develop  the  ideas  of  an  engraver ;  especially  as  the 
pecuniary  prospect  is  not  better,  nor  so  good,  as  it 
might  be  elsewhere.  I  intend  to  adhere  to  my  former 
plan  of  writing  one  or  two  mythological  story-books, 
to  be  published  under  O'Sullivan's  auspices  in  New 
York,  —  which  is  the  only  place  where  books  can  be 
published  with  a  chance  of  profit.  As  a  matter  of 

VOL.  ix.  22 


838  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1843. 

courtesy,  I  may  call  on  Mr. if  I  have  time  ;  but 

I  do  not  intend  to  be  connected  with  this  affair. 

Sunday,  April  $th.  —  .  .  .  After  finishing  my  rec 
ord  in  the  journal,  I  sat  a  long  time  in  grandmother's 
chair,  thinking  of  many  things.  .  .  .  My  spirits  were 
at  a  lower  ebb  than  they  ever  descend  to  when  I  am 
not  alone  ;  nevertheless,  neither  was  I  absolutely  sado 
Many  times  I  wound  and  re-wound  Mr.  Thoreau's  little 
musical-box ;  but  certainly  its  peculiar  sweetness  had 
evaporated,  and  I  am  pretty  sure  that  I  should  throw 
it  out  of  the  window  were  I  doomed  to  hear  it  long 
and  often.  It  has  not  an  infinite  soul.  When  it  was 
almost  as  dark  as  the  moonlight  would  let  it  be,  I 
lighted  the  lamp,  and  went  on  with  Tieck's  tale,  slowly 
and  painfully,  often  wishing  for  help  in  my  difficulties. 
At  last  I  determined  to  learn  a  little  about  pronouns 
and  verbs  before  proceeding  further,  and  so  took  up 
the  phrase-book,  with  which  I  was  commendably  busy, 
when,  at  about  a  quarter  to  nine,  came  a  knock  at  my 
study  door,  and,  behold,  there  was  Molly  with  a  letter  ! 
How  she  came  by  it  I  did  not  ask,  being  content  to 
suppose  it  was  brought  by  a  heavenly  messenger.  I 
had  not  expected  a  letter  ;  and  what  a  comfort  it  was 
to  me  in  my  loneliness  and  sombreness  !  I  called 
Molly  to  take  her  note  (enclosed),  which  she  received 
with  a  face  of  delight  as  broad  and  bright  as  the 
kitchen  fire.  Then  I  read,  and  re-read,  and  re-re-read, 
and  quadruply,  quintuply,  and  sextuply  re-read  my 
epistle,  until  I  had  it  all  by  heart,  and  then  continued 
to  re-read  it  for  the  sake  of  the  penmanship.  Then  I 
took  up  the  phrase-book  again  ;  but  could  not  study, 
and  so  bathed  and  retired,  it  being  now  not  far  from 
ten  o'clock.  I  lay  awake  a  good  deal  in  the  night,  but 
saw  no  ghost. 


1843.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  339 

I  arose  about  seven,  and  found  that  the  upper  part 
of  my  nose,  and  the  region  round  about,  was  griev 
ously  discolored  ;  and  at  the  angle  of  the  left  eye 
there  is  a  great  spot  of  almost  black  purple,  and  a 
broad  streak  of  the  same  hue  semicircling  beneath 
either  eye,  while  green,  yellow,  and  orange  overspread 
the  circumjacent  country.  It  looks  not  unlike  a  gor 
geous  sunset,  throwing  its  splendor  over  the  heaven  of 
my  countenance.  It  will  behoove  me  to  show  myself 
as  little  as  possible,  else  people  will  think  I  have 
fought  a  pitched  battle.  .  .  .  The  Devil  take  the  stick 
of  wood !  What  had  I  done,  that  it  should  bemaul 
me  so  ?  However,  there  is  no  pain,  though,  I  think, 
a  very  slight  affection  of  the  eyes. 

This  forenoon  I  began  to  write,  and  caught  an  idea 
by  the  skirts,  which  I  intend  to  hold  fast,  though  it 
struggles  to  get  free.  As  it  was  not  ready  to  be  put 
upon  paper,  however,  I  took  up  the  "  Dial,"  and  fin 
ished  reading  the  article  on  Mr.  Alcott.  It  is  not  very 
satisfactory,  and  it  has  not  taught  me  much.  Then 
I  read  Margaret's  article  on  Canova,  which  is  good. 
About  this  time  the  dinner-bell  rang,  and  I  went  down 
without  much  alacrity,  though  with  a  good  appetite 
enough.  ...  It  was  in  the  angle  of  my  right  eye,  not 
my  left,  that  the  blackest  purple  was  collected.  But 
they  both  look  like  the  very  Devil. 

Half  past  five  o'clock.  —  After  writing  the  above, 
...  I  again  set  to  work  on  Tieck's  tale,  and  worried 
through  several  pages ;  and  then,  at  half  past  four, 
threw  open  one  of  the  western  windows  of  my  study, 
and  sallied  forth  to  take  the  sunshine.  I  went  down 
through  the  orchard  to  the  river-side.  The  orchard- 
path  is  still  deeply  covered  with  snow ;  and  so  is  the 


840  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1843 

whole  visible  universe,  except  streaks  upon  the  hill 
sides,  and  spots  in  the  sunny  hollows,  where  the  brown 
earth  peeps  through.  The  river,  which  a  few  days  ago 
was  entirely  imprisoned,  has  now  broken  its  fetters ; 
but  a  tract  of  ice  extended  across  from  near  the  foot  of 
the  monument  to  the  abutment  of  the  old  bridge,  and 
looked  so  solid  that  I  supposed  it  would  yet  remain  for 
a  day  or  two.  Large  cakes  and  masses  of  ice  came 
floating  down  the  current,  which,  though  not  very  vio 
lent,  hurried  along  at  a  much  swifter  pace  than  the  or 
dinary  one  of  our  sluggish  river-god.  These  ice-masses, 
when  they  struck  the  barrier  of  ice  above  mentioned, 
acted  upon  it  like  a  battering-ram,  and  were  them 
selves  forced  high  out  of  the  water,  or  sometimes  car 
ried  beneath  the  main  sheet  of  ice.  At  last,  down  the 
stream  came  an  immense  mass  of  ice,  and,  striking  the 
barrier  about  at  its  centre,  it  gave  way,  and  the  whole 
was  swept  onward  together,  leaving  the  river  entirely 
free,  with  only  here  and  there  a  cake  of  ice  floating 
quietly  along.  The  great  accumulation,  in  its  down 
ward  course,  hit  against  a  tree  that  stood  in  mid-cur 
rent,  and  caused  it  to  quiver  like  a  reed ;  and  it  swept 
quite  over  the  shrubbery  that  bordered  what,  in  sum 
mer-time,  is  the  river's  bank,  but  which  is  now  nearly 
the  centre  of  the  stream.  Our  river  in  its  present  state 
has  quite  a  noble  breadth.  The  little  hillock  which 
formed  the  abutment  of  the  old  bridge  is  now  an  isl 
and  with  its  tuft  of  trees.  Along  the  hither  shore  a 
row  of  trees  stand  up  to  their  knees,  and  the  smaller 
ones  to  their  middles,  in  the  water ;  and  afar  off,  on 
the  surface  of  the  stream,  we  see  tufts  of  bushes 
emerging,  thrusting  up  their  heads,  as  it  were,  to 
breathe.  The  water  conies  over  the  stone-wall,  and 
encroaches  several  yards  on  the  boundaries  of  our  or 


1843.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  341 

chard.  [Here  the  supper -bell  rang.]  If  our  boat 
were  in  good  order,  I  should  now  set  forth  on  voyages 
of  discovery,  and  visit  nooks  on  the  borders  of  the 
meadows,  which  by  and  by  will  be  a  mile  or  two  from 
the  water's  edge.  But  she  is  in  very  bad  condition, 
full  of  water,  and,  doubtless,  as  leaky  as  a  sieve. 

On  coming  from  supper,  I  found  that  little  Puss 
had  established  herself  in  the  study,  probably  with  in 
tent  to  pass  the  night  here.  She  now  lies  oil  the  foot 
stool  between  my  feet^  purring  most  obstreperously. 
The  day  of  my  wife's  departure,  she  came  to  me,  talk 
ing  with  the  greatest  earnestness  ;  but  whether  it  was 
to  condole  with  me  on  my  loss,  or  to  demand  my  re 
doubled  care  for  herself,  I  could  not  well  make  out. 
As  Puss  now  constitutes  a  third  part  of  the  family, 
this  mention  of  her  will  not  appear  amiss.  How  Molly 
employs  herself,  I  know  not.  Once  in  a  while,  I  hear 
a  door  slam  like  a  thunder-clap ;  but  she  never  shows 
her  face,  nor  speaks  a  word,  unless  to  announce  a  vis 
itor  or  deliver  a  letter.  This  day,  on  my  part,  will 
have  been  spent  without  exchanging  a  syllable  with 
any  human  being,  unless  something  unforeseen  should 
yet  call  for  the  exercise  of  speech  before  bedtime. 

Monday,  April  lO^A.  —  I  sat  till  eight  o'clock,  med 
itating  upon  this  world  and  the  next,  .  .  .  and  some 
times  dimly  shaping  out  scenes  of  a  tale.  Then  be 
took  myself  to  the  German  phrase-book.  Ah !  these 
are  but  dreary  evenings.  The  lamp  would  not 
brighten  my  spirits,  though  it  was  duly  filled.  .  .  . 
This  forenoon  was  spent  in  scribbling,  by  no  means  to 
my  satisfaction,  until  past  eleven,  when  I  went  to  the 
village.  Nothing  in  our  box  at  the  post-office.  I  read 
during  the  customary  hour,  or  more,  at  the  Athe- 


842  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1843 

naeum,  and  returned  without  saying  a  word  to  mortal. 
I  gathered  from  some  conversation  that  I  heard,  that 
a  son  of  Adam  is  to  be  buried  this  afternoon  from  the 
meeting-house ;  but  the  name  of  the  deceased  escaped 
me.  It  is  no  great  matter,  so  it  be  but  written  in  the 
Book  of  Life. 

My  variegated  face  looks  somewhat  more  human  to 
day  ;  though  I  was  unaffectedly  ashamed  to  meet  any 
body's  gaze,  and  therefore  turned  my  back  or  my 
shoulder  as  much  as  possible  upon  the  world.  At  din 
ner,  behold  an  immense  joint  of  roast  veal !  I  would 
willingly  have  had  some  assistance  in  the  discussion 
of  this  great  piece  of  calf.  I  am  ashamed  to  eat 
alone ;  it  becomes  the  mere  gratification  of  animal  ap 
petite, —  the  tribute  which  we  are  compelled  to  pay 
to  our  grosser  nature ;  whereas,  in  the  company  of  an 
other  it  is  refined  and  moralized  and  spiritualized ; 
and  over  our  earthly  victuals  (or  rather  vittles,  for  the 
former  is  a  very  foolish  mode  of  spelling),  —  over  our 
earthly  vittles  is  diffused  a  sauce  of  lofty  and  gentle 
thoughts,  and  tough  meat  is  mollified  with  tender  feel 
ings.  But  oh !  these  solitary  meals  are  the  dismallest 
part  of  my  present  experience.  When  the  company 
rose  from  table,  they  all,  in  my  single  person,  ascended 
to  the  study,  and  employed  themselves  in  reading  the 
article  on  Oregon  in  the  "  Democratic  Review."  Then 
they  plodded  onward  in  the  rugged  and  bewildering 
depths  of  Tieck's  tale  until  five  o'clock,  when,  with  one 
accord,  they  went  out  to  split  wood.  This  has  been 
a  gray  day,  with  now  and  then  a  sprinkling  of  snow- 
flakes  through  the  air.  .  .  .  To-day  no  more  than  yes 
terday  have  I  spoken  a  word  to  mortal.  ...  It  is 
lunset,  and  I  must  meditate  till  dark. 


1843.]  AMERICAN  NOTEBOOKS.  343 

April  \\th.  —  I  meditated  accordingly,  but  without 
any  very  wonderful  result.  Then  at  eight  o'clock 
bothered  myself  till  after  nine  with  this  eternal  tale  of 
!Tieck.  The  forenoon  was  spent  in  scribbling ;  but  at 
eleven  o'clock  rny  thoughts  ceased  to  flow,  —  indeed, 
their  current  has  been  wofully  interrupted  all  along, 
—  so  I  threw  down  my  pen,  and  set  out  on  the  daily 
journey  to  the  village.  Horrible  walking !  I  wasted 
the  customary  hour  at  the  Athena3um,  and  returned 
home,  if  home  it  may  now  be  called.  Till  dinner-time 
1  labored  on  Tieck's  tale,  and  resumed  that  agreeable 
employment  after  the  banquet. 

Just  when  I  was  on  the  point  of  choking  with  a 
huge  German  word,  Molly  announced  Mr.  Thoreau. 
He  wished  to  take  a  row  in  the  boat,  for  the  last  time, 
perhaps,  before  he  leaves  Concord.  So  we  emptied 
the  water  out  of  her,  and  set  forth  on  our  voyage. 
She  leaks,  but  not  more  than  she  did  in  the  autumn. 
We  rowed  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  which  borders  the 
North  Branch,  and  there  landed,  and  climbed  the 
moist  and  snowy  hill-side  for  the  sake  of  the  prospect. 
Looking  down  the  river,  it  might  well  have  been  mis 
taken  for  an  arm  of  the  sea,  so  broad  is  now  its 
swollen  tide ;  and  I  could  have  fancied  that,  beyond 
one  other  headland,  the  mighty  ocean  would  outspread 
itself  before  the  eye.  On  our  return  we  boarded  LI 
large  cake  of  ice,  which  was  floating  down  the  river, 
and  were  borne  by  it  directly  to  our  own  landing- 
place,  with  the  boat  towing  behind. 

Parting  with  Mr.  Thoreau,  I  spent  half  an  hour  in 
chopping  wood,  when  Molly  informed  me  that  Mr. 
Emerson  wished  to  see  me.  He  had  brought  a  letter 
of  Ellery  Channing,  written  in  a  style  of  very  pleas 
ant  humor.  This  being  read  and  discussed,  together 


344  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1843. 

with  a  few  other  matters,  he  took  his  leave,  since  which 
I  have  been  attending  to  my  journalizing  duty ;  and 
thus  this  record  is  brought  down  to  the  present  mo 
ment. 

April  25th.  —  Spring  is  advancing,  sometimes  with 
sunny  days,  and  sometimes,  as  is  the  case  now,  with 
chill,  moist,  sullen  ones.  There  is  an  influence  in  the 
season  that  makes  it  almost  impossible  for  me  to  bring 
my  mind  down  to  literary  employment ;  perhaps  be 
cause  several  months'  pretty  constant  work  has  ex 
hausted  that  species  of  energy,  —  perhaps  because  in 
spring  it  is  more  natural  to  labor  actively  than  to 
think.  But  my  impulse  now  is  to  be  idle  altogether, 
—  to  lie  in  the  sun,  or  wander  about  and  look  at  the 
revival  of  Nature  from  her  death-like  slumber,  or  to 
be  borne  down  the  current  of  the  river  in  my  boat. 
If  I  had  wings,  I  would  gladly  fly ;  yet  would  prefer 
to  be  wafted  along  by  a  breeze,  sometimes  alighting 
on  a  pateh  of  green  grass,  then  gently  whirled  away 
to  a  still  sunnier  spot.  .  .  .  Oh,  how  blest  should  I  be 
were  there  nothing  to  do !  Then  I  would  watch  every 
inch  and  hair's-breadth  of  the  progress  of  the  season  ; 
and  not  a  leaf  should  put  itself  forth,  in  the  vicinity  of 
our  old  mansion,  without  my  noting  it.  But  now,  with 
the  burden  of  a  continual  task  upon  me,  I  have  not 
freedom  of  mind  to  make  such  observations.  I  merely 
see  what  is  going  on  in  a  very  general  way.  The 
snow,  which,  two  or  three  weeks  ago,  covered  hill  and 
valley,  is  now  diminished  to  one  or  two  solitary  specks 
in  the  visible  landscape ;  though  doubtless  there  are 
still  heaps  of  it  in  the  shady  places  in  the  woods. 
There  have  been  no  violent  rains  to  carry  it  off :  it  has 
diminished  gradually,  inch  by  inch,  and  day  after  day ; 


1843.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  346 

and  I  observed,  along  the  roadside,  that  the  green 
blades  of  grass  had  sometimes  sprouted  on  the  very 
edge  of  the  snowdrift  the  moment  that  the  earth  was 
uncovered. 

The  pastures  and  grass-fields  have  not  yet  a  general 
effect  of  green ;  nor  have  they  that  cheerless  brown 
tint  which  they  wear  in  later  autumn,  when  vegetation 
has  entirely  ceased.  There  is  now  a  suspicion  of  ver 
dure,  —  the  faint  shadow  of  it,  —  but  not  the  warm 
reality.  Sometimes,  in  a  happy  exposure,  —  there  is 
one  such  tract  across  the  river,  the  carefully  cultivated 
mowing-field,  in  front  of  an  old  red  homestead,  — 
such  patches  of  land  wear  a  beautiful  and  tender 
green,  which  no  other  season  will  equal ;  because,  let 
the  grass  be  green  as  it  may  hereafter,  it  will  not  be  so 
set  off  by  surrounding  barrenness.  The  trees  in  our 
orchard,  and  elsewhere,  have  as  yet  no  leaves  ;  yet  to 
the  most  careless  eye  they  appear  full  of  life  and  veg 
etable  blood.  It  seems  as  if,  by  one  magic  touch, 
they  might  instantaneously  put  forth  all  their  foliage, 
mid  the  wind,  which  now  sighs  through  their  naked 
branches,  might  all  at  once  find  itself  impeded  by  in 
numerable  leaves.  This  sudden  development  would  be 
scarcely  more  wonderful  than  the  gleam  of  verdure 
which  often  brightens,  in  a  moment,  as  it  were,  along 
the  slope  of  a  bank  or  roadside.  It  is  like  a  gleam  of 
sunlight.  Just  now  it  was  brown,  like  the  rest  of  the 
scenery :  look  again,  and  there  is  an  apparition  of 
green  grass.  The  Spring,  no  doubt,  comes  onward 
with  fleeter  footsteps,  because  Winter  has  lingered  so 
long  that,  at  best,  she  can  hardly  retrieve  half  the  al 
lotted  term  of  her  reign. 

The  river,  this  season,  has  encroached  farther  on 
the  land  than  it  has  been  known  to  do  for  twenty 


346  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [ma 

years  past.  It  has  formed  along  its  course  a  succes 
sion  of  lakes,  with  a  current  through  the  midst.  My 
boat  has  lain  at  the  bottom  of  the  orchard,  in  very 
convenient  proximity  to  the  house.  It  has  borne  me 
over  stone  fences ;  and,  a  few  days  ago,  Ellery  Chan- 
iiing  and  I  passed  through  two  rails  into  the  great 
northern  road,  along  which  we  paddled  for  some  dis 
tance.  The  trees  have  a  singular  appearance  in  the 
midst  of  waters.  The  curtailment  of  their  trunks 
quite  destroys  the  proportions  of  the  whole  tree ;  and 
we  become  conscious  of  a  regularity  and  propriety  in 
the  forms  of  Nature,  by  the  effect  of  this  abbreviation. 
The  waters  are  now  subsiding,  but  gradually.  Islands 
become  annexed  to  the  mainland,  and  other  islands 
emerge  from  the  flood,  and  will  soon,  likewise,  be  con 
nected  with  the  continent.  We  have  seen  on  a  small 
scale  the  process  of  the  deluge,  and  can  now  witness 
that  of  the  reappearance  of  the  earth. 

Crows  visited  us  long  before  the  snow  was  off. 
They  seem  mostly  to  have  departed  now,  or  else  to 
have  betaken  themselves  to  remote  depths  of  the 
woods,  which  they  haunt  all  summer  long.  Ducks 
came  in  great  numbers,  and  many  sportsmen  went  in 
pursuit  of  them  along  the  river ;  but  they  also  have 
disappeared.  Gulls  come  up  from  seaward,  and  soar 
high  overhead,  flapping  their  broad  wings  in  the  upper 
sunshine.  They  are  among  the  most  picturesque  birds 
that  I  am  acquainted  with ;  indeed,  quite  the  most  so, 
because  the  manner  of  their  flight  makes  them  almost 
stationary  parts  of  the  landscape.  The  imagination 
has  time  to  rest  upon  them;  they  have  not  flitted 
away  in  a  moment.  You  go  up  among  the  clouds,  and 
lay  hold  of  these  soaring  gulls,  and  repose  with  them 
upon  the  sustaining  atmosphere.  The  smaller  birds, 


1843.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  347 

• —  the  birds  that  build  their  nests  in  our  trees,  and 
sing  for  us  at  morning-red,  —  I  will  not  describe.  .  .  . 
But  I  must  mention  the  great  companies  of  blackbirds 
—  more  than  the  famous  "  four  -  and  -  twenty  "  who 
were  baked  in  a  pie  —  that  congregate  on  the  tops  of 
contiguous  trees,  and  vociferate  with  all  the  clamor  of 
a  turbulent  political  meeting.  Politics  must  certainly 
be  the  subject  of  such  a  tumultuous  debate ;  but  still 
there  is  a  melody  in  each  individual  utterance,  and  a 
harmony  in  the  general  effect.  Mr.  Thoreau  tells  me 
that  these  noisy  assemblages  consist  of  three  different 
species  of  blackbirds ;  but  I  forget  the  other  two. 
Robins  have  been  long  among  us,  and  swallows  have 
more  recently  arrived. 

April  26th.  —  Here  is  another  misty  day,  muffling 
the  sun.  The  lilac-shrubs  under  my  study  window  are 
almost  in  leaf.  In  two  or  three  days  more,  I  may  put 
forth  my  hand  and  pluck  a  green  bough.  These  lilacs 
appear  to  be  very  aged,  and  have  lost  the  luxuriant 
foliage  of  their  prime.  Old  age  has  a  singular  aspect 
in  lilacs,  rose-bushes,  and  other  ornamental  shrubs. 
It  seems  as  if  such  things,  as  they  grow  only  for 
beauty,  ought  to  flourish  in  immortal  youth,  or  at  least 
to  die  before  their  decrepitude.  They  are  trees  of  Par 
adise,  and  therefore  not  naturally  subject  to  decay ; 
but  have  lost  their  birthright  by  being  transplanted 
hither.  There  is  a  kind  of  ludicrous  unfitness  in  the 
idea  of  a  venerable  rose-bush  5  and  there  is  something 
analogous  to  this  in  human  life.  Persons  who  can 
only  be  graceful  and  ornamental  —  who  can  give  the 
world  nothing  but  flowers  —  should  die  young,  and 
never  be  seen  with  gray  hairs  and  wrinkles,  any  more 
than  the  flower  -  shrubs  with  mossy  bark  and  scanty 


S48  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1843. 

foliage,  like  the  lilacs  under  my  window.  Not  that 
beauty  is  not  worthy  of  immortality.  Nothing  else, 
indeed,  is  worthy  of  it ;  and  thence,  perhaps,  the  sense 
of  impropriety  when  we  see  it  triumphed  over  by  time. 
Apple-trees,  on  the  other  hand,  grow  old  without  re 
proach.  Let  them  live  as  long  as  they  may,  and  con- 
tort  themselves  in  whatever  fashion  they  please,  they 
are  still  respectable,  even  if  they  afford  us  only  an  ap 
pie  or  two  in  a  season,  or  none  at  all.  Human  flower 
shrubs,  if  they  will  grow  old  on  earth,  should,  beside 
their  lovely  blossoms,  bear  some  kind  of  fruit  that  will 
satisfy  earthly  appetites ;  else  men  will  not  be  satisfied 
that  the  moss  should  gather  on  them. 

Winter  and  Spring  are  now  struggling  for  the  mas 
tery  in  my  study ;  and  I  yield  somewhat  to  each,  and 
wholly  to  neither.  The  window  is  open,  and  there  is 
a  fire  in  the  stove.  The  day  when  the  window  is  first 
thrown  open  should  be  an  epoch  in  the  year ;  but  I 
have  forgotten  to  record  it.  Seventy  or  eighty  springs 
have  visited  this  old  house ;  and  sixty  of  them  found 
old  Dr.  Kipley  here,  —  not  always  old,  it  is  true,  but 
gradually  getting  wrinkles  and  gray  hairs,  and  look 
ing  more  and  more  the  picture  of  winter.  But  he  was 
no  flower-shrub,  but  one  of  those  fruit-trees  or  timber- 
frees  that  acquire  a  grace  with  their  old  age.  Last 
Spring  found  this  house  solitary  for  the  first  time 
since  it  was  built ;  and  now  again  she  peeps  into  our 
open  windows  and  finds  new  faces  here.  .  .  . 

It  is  remarkable  how  much  uncleanness  winter 
brings  with  it,  or  leaves  behind  it.  ...  The  yard,  gar 
den,  and  avenue,  which  should  be  my  department,  re 
quire  a  great  amount  of  labor.  The  avenue  is  strewed 
with  withered  leaves,  —  the  whole  crop,  apparently,  of 
last  year,  —  some  of  which  are  now  raked  into  heaps , 


1843.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  349 

and  we  intend  to  make  a  bonfire  of  them.  .  .  .  There 
are  quantities  of  decayed  branches,  which  one  tempest 
after  another  has  flung  down,  black  and  rotten.  In 
the  garden  are  the  old  cabbages  which  we  did  not 
think  worth  gathering  last  autumn,  and  the  dry  bean- 
vines,  and  the  withered  stalks  of  the  asparagus-bed  ; 
in  short,  all  the  wrecks  of  the  departed  year,  —  its 
mouldering  relics,  its  dry  bones.  It  is  a  pity  that  the 
world  cannot  be  made  over  anew  every  spring.  Then, 
in  the  yard,  there  are  the  piles  of  firewood,  which  I 
ought  to  have  sawed  and  thrown  into  the  shed  long 
since,  but  which  will  cumber  the  earth,  I  fear,  till 
June,  at  least.  Quantities  of  chips  are  strewn  about, 
and  on  removing  them  we  find  the  yellow  stalks  of 
grass  sprouting  underneath.  Nature  does  her  best  to 
beautify  this  disarray.  The  grass  springs  up  most  in 
dustriously,  especially  in  sheltered  and  sunny  angles 
of  the  buildings,  or  round  the  doorsteps,  —  a  locality 
which  seems  particularly  favorable  to  its  growth ;  for 
it  is  already  high  enough  to  bend  over  and  wave  in 
the  wind.  I  was  surprised  to  observe  that  some 
weeds  (especially  a  plant  that  stains  the  fingers  with 
its  yellow  juice)  had  lived,  and  retained  their  fresh 
ness  and  sap  as  perfectly  as  in  summer,  through  all 
the  frosts  and  snows  of  last  winter.  I  saw  them,  the 
last  green  thing,  in  the  autumn ;  and  here  they  are 
again,  the  first  in  the  spring. 

Thursday,  April  27th.  —  I  took  a  walk  into  the 
fields,  and  round  our  opposite  hill,  yesterday  noon,  but 
made  no  very  remarkable  observation.  The  frogs  have 
begun  their  concerts,  though  not  as  yet  with  a  full 
choir.  I  found  no  violets  nor  anemones,  nor  anything 
n  the  likeness  of  a  flower,  though  I  looked  carefully 


850  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1843. 

along  the  shelter  of  the  stone-walls,  and  in  all  spots 
apparently  propitious.  I  ascended  the  hill,  and  had  a 
wide  prospect  of  a  swollen  river,  extending  around  me 
in  a  semicircle  of  three  or  four  miles,  and  rendering 
the  view  much  finer  than  in  summer,  had  there  only 
been  foliage.  It  seemed  like  the  formation  of  a  new 
world ;  for  islands  were  everywhere  emerging,  and 
capes  extending  forth  into  the  flood  ;  and  these  tracts, 
which  were  thus  won  from  the  watery  empire,  were 
among  the  greenest  in  the  landscape.  The  moment 
the  deluge  leaves  them  Nature  asserts  them  to  be  her 
property  by  covering  them  with  verdure  ;  or  perhaps 
the  grass  had  been  growing  under  the  water.  On  the 
hill-top  where  I  stood,  the  grass  had  scarcely  begun  to 
sprout ;  and  I  observed  that  even  those  places  which 
looked  greenest  in  the  distance  were  but  scantily  grass- 
covered  when  I  actually  reached  them.  It  was  hope 
that  painted  them  so  bright. 

Last  evening  we  saw  a  bright  light  on  the  river, 
betokening  that  a  boat's  party  were  engaged  in  spear 
ing  fish.  It  looked  like  a  descended  star,  —  like  red 
Mars,  —  and,  as  the  water  was  perfectly  smooth,  its 
gleam  was  reflected  downward  into  the  depths.  It  is 
a  very  picturesque  sight.  In  the  deep  quiet  of  the 
night  I  suddenly  heard  the  light  and  lively  note  of  a 
bird  from  a  neighboring  tree,  —  a  real  song,  such  as 
those  which  greet  the  purple  dawn,  or  mingle  with  the 
yellow  sunshine.  What  could  the  little  bird  mean  by 
pouring  it  forth  at  midnight  ?  Probably  the  note 
gushed  out  from  the  midst  of  a  dream,  in  which  he 
fancied  himself  in  Paradise  with  his  mate  ;  and,  sud 
denly  awakening,  he  found  he  was  on  a  cold,  leafless 
bough,  with  a  New  England  mist  penetrating  through 
his  feathers.  That  was  a  sad  exchange  of  imagination 


/843.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  8£1 

for  reality ;  but  if  he  found  his  mate  beside  him,  all 
was  well. 

This  is  another  misty  morning,  ungenial  in  aspect, 
but  kinder  than  it  looks  ;  for  it  paints  the  hills  and 
valleys  with  a  richer  brush  than  the  sunshine  could, 
There  is  more  verdure  now  than  when  I  looked  out  of 
the  window  an  hour  ago.  The  willow  -  tree  opposite 
my  study  window  is  ready  to  put  forth  its  leaves. 
There  are  some  objections  to  willows.  It  is  not  a  dry 
and  cleanly  tree  ;  it  impresses  me  with  an  association 
of  sliminess  ;  and  no  trees,  I  think,  are  perfectly  satis 
factory,  which  have  not  a  firm  and  hard  texture  of 
trunk  and  branches.  But  the  willow  is  almost  the 
earliest  to  put  forth  its  leaves,  and  the  last  to  scatter 
them  on  the  ground  ;  and  during  the  whole  winter  its 
yellow  twigs  give  it  a  sunny  aspect,  which  is  not  with 
out  a  cheering  influence  in  a  proper  point  of  view. 
Our  old  house  would  lose  much  were  this  willow  to  be 
cut  down,  with  its  golden  crown  over  the  roof  in  win 
ter,  and  its  heap  of  summer  verdure.  The  present  Mr, 
Eipley  planted  it,  fifty  years  ago,  or  thereabouts. 

Friday,  June  2d.  —  Last  night  there  came  a  frost, 
which  has  done  great  damage  to  my  garden.  The 
beans  have  suffered  very  much,  although,  luckily,  not 
more  than  half  that  I  planted  have  come  up.  The 
squashes,  both  summer  and  winter,  appear  to  be  almost  } 
killed.  As  to  the  other  vegetables,  there  is  little  mis-  ; 
chief  done,  —  the  potatoes  not  being  yet  above  ground, 
except  two  or  three ;  and  the  peas  and  corn  are  of  a 
hardier  nature.  It  is  sad  that  Nature  will  so  sport 
with  us  poor  mortals,  inviting  us  with  sunny  smiles  to 
confide  in  her  ;  and  then,  when  we  are  entirely  in  her 
power,  striking  us  to  the  heart.  Our  summer  com 


352  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1843. 

mences  at  the  latter  end  of  June,  and  terminates  some 
where  about  the  first  of  August.  There  are  certainly 
not  more  than  six  weeks  of  the  whole  year  when  a 
frost  may  be  deemed  anything  remarkable. 


Friday,  June  Z3d.  —  Summer  has  come  at  last,  — 
the  longest  days,  with  blazing  sunshine,  and  fervid 
heat.  Yesterday  glowed  like  molten  brass.  Last 
night  was  the  most  uncomfortably  and  unsleepably 
sultry  that  we  have  experienced  since  our  residence  in 
Concord  ;  and  to-day  it  scorches  again.  I  have  a  sort 
of  enjoyment  in  these  seven-times-heated  furnaces  of 
midsummer,  even  though  they  make  me  droop  like  a 
thirsty  plant.  The  sunshine  can  scarcely  be  too  burn 
ing  for  my  taste  ;  but  I  am  no  enemy  to  summer  show 
ers.  Could  I  only  have  the  freedom  to  be  perfectly 
idle  now,  —  no  duty  to  fulfil,  no  mental  or  physical 
labor  to  perform,  —  I  should  be  as  happy  as  a  squash, 
and  much  in  the  same  mode  ;  but  the  necessity  of 
keeping  my  brain  at  work  eats  into  my  comfort,  as 
the  squash-bugs  do  into  the  heart  of  the  vines.  I  keep 
myself  uneasy  and  produce  little,  and  almost  nothing 
that  is  worth  producing. 

The  garden  looks  well  now  :  the  potatoes  flourish  ; 
the  early  corn  waves  in  the  wind  ;  the  squashes,  both 
for  summer  and  winter  use,  are  more  forward,  I  sus 
pect,  than  those  of  any  of  my  neighbors.  I  am  forced, 
however,  to  carry  on  a  continual  warfare  with  the 
squash-bugs,  who,  were  I  to  let  them  alone  for  a  day, 
would  perhaps  quite  destroy  the  prospects  of  the  whole 
summer.  It  is  impossible  not  to  feel  angry  with  these 
unconscionable  insects,  who  scruple  not  to  do  such  ex- 
oessive  mischief  to  me,  with  only  the  profit  of  a  meal 
M*  two  to  themselves.  For  their  own  sakes  they  ought 


1843.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  353 

at  least  to  wait  till  the  squashes  are  better  grown0 
Why  is  it,  I  wonder,  that  Nature  has  provided  such  a 
host  of  enemies  for  every  useful  esculent,  while  the 
weeds  are  suffered  to  grow  unmolested,  and  are  pro 
vided  with  such  tenacity  of  life,  and  such  methods  of 
propagation,  that  the  gardener  must  maintain  a  con 
tinual  struggle  or  they  will  hopelessly  overwhelm  him  ? 
What  hidden  virtue  is  in  these  things,  that  it  is  granted 
them  to  sow  themselves  with  the  wind,  and  to  grapple 
the  earth  with  this  immitigable  stubbornness,  and  to 
flourish  in  spite  of  obstacles,  and  never  to  suffer  blight 
beneath  any  sun  or  shade,  but  always  to  mock  their  ene 
mies  with  the  same  wicked  luxuriance  ?  It  is  truly  a 
mystery,  and  also  a  symbol.  There  is  a  sort  of  sacred- 
ness  about  them.  Perhaps,  if  we  could  penetrate  Na 
ture's  secrets,  we  should  find  that  what  we  call  weeds 
are  more  essential  to  the  well-being  of  the  world  than 
the  most  precious  fruit  or  grain.  This  may  be  doubted, 
however,  for  there  is  an  unmistakable  analogy  be 
tween  these  wicked  weeds  and  the  bad  habits  and  sin 
ful  propensities  which  have  overrun  the  moral  world  •, 
and  we  may  as  well  imagine  that  there  is  good  in  one 
as  in  the  other. 

Our  peas  are  in  such  forwardness  that  I  should  not 
wonder  if  we  had  some  of  them  on  the  table  within 
a  week.  The  beans  have  come  up  ill,  and  I  planted  a 
fresh  supply  only  the  day  before  yesterday.  We  have 
watermelons  in  good  advancement,  and  muskmelons 
also  within  three  or  four  days.  I  set  out  some  toma 
toes  last  night,  also  some  capers.  It  is  my  purpose 
to  plant  some  more  corn  at  the  end  of  the  month,  or 
sooner.  There  ought  to  be  a  record  of  the  flower-gar 
den,  and  of  the  procession  of  the  wild-flowers,  as  mi° 
nute,  at  least,  as  of  the  kitchen  vegetables  and  pot- 

VOL.  ix.  23 


854  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [184?. 

herbs.  Above  all,  the  noting  of  the  appearance  of  the 
first  roses  should  not  be  omitted ;  nor  of  the  Are 
thusa,  one  of  the  delicatest,  gracefullest,  and  in  every 
manner  sweetest,  of  the  whole  race  of  flowers.  For  a 
fortnight  past  I  have  found  it  in  the  swampy  mead 
ows,  growing  up  to  its  chin  in  heaps  of  wet  moss.  Its 
hue  is  a  delicate  pink,  of  various  depths  of  shade,  and 
somewhat  in  the  form  of  a  Grecian  helmet.  To  de 
scribe  it  is  a  feat  beyond  iny  power.  Also  the  visit 
of  two  friends,  who  may  fitly  enough  be  mentioned 
among  flowers,  ought  to  have  been  described.  Mrs. 

F.  S and  Miss  A.  S .     Also  I  have  neglected 

to  mention  the  birth  of  a  little  white  dove. 

I  never  observed,  until  the  present  season,  how  long 
and  late  the  twilight  lingers  in  these  longest  days. 
The  orange  hue  of  the  western  horizon  remains  till 
ten  o'clock,  at  least,  and  how  much  later  I  am  unable 
to  say.  The  night  before  last,  I  could  distinguish  let 
ters  by  this  lingering  gleam  between  nine  and  ten 
o'clock.  The  dawn,  I  suppose,  shows  itself  as  early 
as  two  o'clock,  so  that  the  absolute  dominion  of  night 
has  dwindled  to  almost  nothing.  There  seems  to  be 
also  a  diminished  necessity,  or,  at  all  events,  a  much 
less  possibility,  of  sleep  than  at  other  periods  of  the 
year.  I  get  scarcely  any  sound  repose  just  now.  It 
is  summer,  and  not  winter,  that  steals  away  mortal  life. 
Well,  we  get  the  value  of  what  is  taken  from  us. 

Saturday,  July  1st.  —  We  had  our  first  dish  of 
green  peas  (a  very  small  one)  yesterday.  Every  day 
for  the  last  week  has  been  tremendously  hot ;  and  our 
garden  flourishes  like  Eden  itself,  only  Adam  could 
hardly  have  been  doomed  to  contend  with  such  a  fero* 
clous  banditti  of  weeds. 


1848.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  355 

Sunday,  July  9th.  —  I  know  not  what  to  say,  and 
yet  cannot  be  satisfied  without  marking  with  a  word 
or  two  this  anniversary.  .  .  .  But  life  now  swells  and 
heaves  beneath  me  like  a  brim-full  ocean  ;  and  the  en- 
deavor  to  comprise  any  portion  of  it  in  words  is  like 
trying  to  dip  up  the  ocean  in  a  goblet.  .  .  .  God  bless 
and  keep  us !  for  there  is  something  more  awful  in 
happiness  than  in  sorrow,  —  the  latter  being  earthly 
and  finite,  the  former  composed  of  the  substance  and 
texture  of  eternity,  so  that  spirits  still  embodied  may 
well  tremble  at  it. 

July  1.8th.  — -  This  morning  I  gathered  our  first 
summer-squashes.  We  should  have  had  them  some 
days  earlier,  but  for  the  loss  of  two  of  the  vines,  either 
by  a  disease  of  the  roots  or  by  those  infernal  bugs. 
We  have  had  turnips  and  carrots  several  times.  Cur 
rants  are  now  ripe,  and  we  are  in  the  full  enjoyment 
of  cherries,  which  turn  out  much  more  delectable  than 
I  anticipated.  George  Hillard  and  Mrs.  Hillard  paid 
us  a  visit  on  Saturday  last.  On  Monday  afternoon  he 
left  us,  and  Mrs.  Hillard  still  remains  here. 

Friday,  July  %&th.  —  We  had  green  corn  for  din 
ner  yesterday,  and  shall  have  some  more  to-day,  not 
quite  full  grown,  but  sufficiently  so  to  be  palatable. 
There  has  been  no  rain,  except  one  moderate  shower, 
for  many  weeks  ;  and  the  earth  appears  to  be  wasting 
away  in  a  slow  fever.  This  weather,  I  think,  affects 
the  spirits  very  unfavorably.  There  is  an  irksome- 
ness,  a  restlessness,  a  pervading  dissatisfaction,  to 
gether  with  an  absolute  incapacity  to  bend  the  mind 
to  any  serious  effort.  With  me,  as  regards  literary 
production,  the  summer  has  been  unprofitable  ;  and  J 


356  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1843. 

only  hope  that  my  forces  are  recruiting  themselves  for 
the  autumn  and  winter.  For  the  future,  I  shall  en 
deavor  to  be  so  diligent  nine  months  of  the  year  that 
I  may  allow  myself  a  full  and  free  vacation  of  the 
other  three. 

Monday,  July  31s£.  —  We  had  our  first  cucumber 
yesterday.  There  were  symptoms  of  rain  on  Satur 
day,  and  the  weather  has  since  been  as  moist  as  the 
thirstiest  soul  could  desire. 


Wednesday,  September  13^A.  —  There  was  a  frost 
the  night  before  last,  according  to  George  Prescott  ; 
but  no  effects  of  it  were  visible  in  our  garden.  Last 
night,  however,  there  was  another,  which  has  nipped 
the  leaves  of  the  winter-squashes  and  cucumbers,  but 
seems  to  have  done  no  other  damage.  This  is  a  beau 
tiful  morning,  and  promises  to  be  one  of  those  heav 
enly  days  that  render  autumn,  after  all,  the  most  de 
lightful  season  of  the  year.  We  mean  to  make  a 
voyage  on  the  river  this  afternoon. 

Sunday,  September  23<#.  —  I  have  gathered  the 
two  last  of  our  summer-squashes  to-day.  They  have 
lasted  ever  since  the  18th  of  July,  and  have  numbered 
fifty  -  eight  edible  ones,  of  excellent  quality.  Last 
Wednesday,  I  think,  I  harvested  our  winter-squashes, 
sixty-three  in  number,  and  mostly  of  fine  size.  Our 
last  series  of  green  corn,  planted  about  the  1st  of  July, 
was  good  for  eating  two  or  three  days  ago.  We  still 
have  beans  ;  and  our  tomatoes,  though  backward,  sup 
ply  us  with  a  dish  every  day  or  two.  My  potato-crop 
promises  well  ;  and,  on  the  whole,  my  first  indepen 
dent  experiment  of  agriculture  is  quite  a  successful  • 
one. 


1845.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  357 

This  is  a  glorious  day,  —  bright,  very  warm,  yet 
with  an  unspeakable  gentleness  both  in  its  warmth 
and  brightness.  On  such  days  it  is  impossible  not  to 
love  Nature,  for  she  evidently  loves  us.  At  other  sea 
sons  she  does  not  give  me  this  impression,  or  only  at 
very  rare  intervals  ;  but  in  these  happy,  autumnal 
days,  when  she  has  perfected  the  harvests,  and  accom 
plished  every  necessary  thing  that  she  had  to  do,  she 
overflows  with  a  blessed  superfluity  of  love.  It  is 
good  to  be  alive  now.  Thank  God  for  breath,  —  yes, 
for  mere  breath !  when  it  is  made  up  of  such  a  heav 
enly  breeze  as  this.  It  comes  to  the  cheek  with  a  real 
kiss ;  it  would  linger  fondly  around  us,  if  it  might : 
but,  since  it  must  be  gone,  it  caresses  us  with  its  whole 
kindly  heart,  and  passes  onward,  to  caress  likewise  the 
next  thing  that  it  meets.  There  is  a  pervading  bless 
ing  diffused  over  all  the  world.  I  look  out  of  the 
window  and  think,  "  O  perfect  day !  O  beautiful 
Nvorld !  O  good  God !  "  And  such  a  day  is  the 
promise  of  a  blissful  eternity.  Our  Creator  would 
never  have  made  such  weather,  and  given  us  the  deep 
heart  to  enjoy  it,  above  and  beyond  all  thought,  if  he  r 
had  not  meant  us  to  be  immortal.  It  opens  the  gates 
of  heaven  and  gives  us  glimpses  far  inward. 

Bless  me !  this  flight  has  carried  me  a  great  way ; 
BO  now  let  me  come  back  to  our  old  abbey.  Our  or 
chard  is  fast  ripening ;  and  the  apples  and  great  thump 
ing  pears  strew  the  grass  in  such  abundance  that  it 
becomes  almost  a  trouble  —  though  a  pleasant  one  — 
to  gather  them.  This  happy  breeze,  too,  shakes  them 
down,  as  if  it  flung  fruit  to  us  out  of  the  sky ;  and 
often,  when  the  air  is  perfectly  still,  I  hear  the  quiet 
fall  of  a  great  apple.  Well,  we  are  rich  in  blessings, 
though  poor  in  money.  .  .  . 


358  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1845. 

Friday,  October  Qt7i.  —  Yesterday  afternoon  I  took 
a  solitary  walk  to  Walden  Pond.  It  was  a  cool,  windy 
day,  with  heavy  clouds  rolling  and  tumbling  about  the 
sky,  but  still  a  prevalence  of  genial  autumn  sunshine. 
The  fields  are  still  green,  and  the  great  masses  of  the 
woods  have  not  yet  assumed  their  many-colored  gar 
ments  ;  but  here  and  there  are  solitary  oaks  of  deep, 
substantial  red,  or  maples  of  a  more  brilliant  hue,  or 
chestnuts  either  yellow  or  of  a  tenderer  green  than  in 
summer.  Some  trees  seem  to  return  to  their  hue  of 
May  or  early  June  before  they  put  on  the  brighter 
autumnal  tints.  In  some  places,  along  the  borders  of 
law  and  moist  land,  a  whole  range  of  trees  were  clothed 
in  the  perfect  gorgeousness  of  autumn,  of  all  shades 
of  brilliant  color,  looking  like  the  palette  on  which 
Nature  was  arranging  the  tints  wherewith  to  paint  a 
picture.  These  hues  appeared  to  be  thrown  together 
without  design  ;  and  yet  there  was  perfect  harmony 
among  them,  and  a  softness  and  a  delicacy  made  up 
of  a  thousand  different  brightnesses.  There  is  not,  I 
think,  so  much  contrast  among  these  colors  as  might 
at  first  appear.  The  more  you  consider  them,  the 
more  they  seem  to  have  one  element  among  them  all, 
which  is  the  reason  that  the  most  brilliant  display  of 
them  soothes  the  observer,  instead  of  exciting  him. 
And  I  know  not  whether  it  be  more  a  moral  effect  or 
a  physical  one,  operating  merely  on  the  eye  ;  but  it  is 
a  pensive  gayety,  which  causes  a  sigh  often,  and  never 
a  smile.  We  never  fancy,  for  instance,  that,  these 
gayly  clad  trees  might  be  changed  into  young  damsels 
in  holiday  attire,  and  betake  themselves  to  dancing  on 
the  plain.  If  they  were  to  undergo  such  a  transfor 
mation,  they  would  surely  arrange  themselves  in  funeral 
procession,  and  go  sadly  along,  with  their  purple  and 


1843.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  359 

scarlet  and  golden  garments  trailing  over  the  wither 
ing  grass.  When  the  sunshine  falls  upon  them,  they 
seem  to  smile ;  but  it  is  as  if  they  were  heart-broken. 
But  it  is  in  vain  for  me  to  attempt  to  describe  these 
autumnal  brilliancies,  or  to  convey  the  impression 
which  they  make  on  me.  I  have  tried  a  thousand 
times,  and  always  without  the  slightest  self  -  satisf  ac»  '" 
tion.  Fortunately  there  is  no  need  of  such  a  record, 
for  Nature  renews  the  picture  year  after  year ;  and 
even  when  we  shall  have  passed  away  from  the  world, 
we  can  spiritually  create  these  scenes,  so  that  we  may 
dispense  with  all  efforts  to  put  them  into  words. 

Walden  Pond  was  clear  and  beautiful  as  usual.  It 
tempted  me  to  bathe  ;  and,  though  the  water  was 
thrillingly  cold,  it  was  like  the  thrill  of  a  happy  death. 
Never  was  there  such  transparent  water  as  this.  I 
threw  sticks  into  it,  and  saw  them  float  suspended  on 
an  almost  invisible  medium.  It  seemed  as  if  the  pure 
air  were  beneath  them,  as  well  as  above.  It  is  fit  for 
baptisms ;  but  one  would  not  wish  it  to  be  polluted  by 
having  sins  washed  into  it.  None  but  angels  should 
bathe  in  it ;  but  blessed  babies  might  be  dipped  into 
its  bosom. 

In  a  small  and  secluded  dell  that  opens  upon  the 
most  beautiful  cove  of  the  whole  lake,  there  is  a  little 
hamlet  of  huts  or  shanties  inhabited  by  the  Irish  people 
who  are  at  work  upon  the  railroad.  There  are  three 
or  four  of  these  habitations,  the  very  rudest,  I  should 
imagine,  that  civilized  men  ever  made  for  themselves, 
—  constructed  of  rough  boards,  with  the  protruding 
ends.  Against  some  of  them  the  earth  is  heaped  up 
to  the  roof,  or  nearly  so ;  and  when  the  grass  has  had 
time  to  sprout  upon  them,  they  will  look  like  small 
natural  hillocks,  or  a  species  of  ant-hills5  —  something 


360  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1848. 

in  which  Nature  has  a  larger  share  than  man.  These 
huts  are  placed  beneath  the  trees,  oaks,  walnuts,  and 
white-pines,  wherever  the  trunks  give  them  space  to 
stand  ;  and  by  thus  adapting  themselves  to  natural  in 
terstices,  instead  of  making  new  ones,  they  do  not 
break  or  disturb  the  solitude  and  seclusion  of  the 
place.  Voices  are  heard,  and  the  shouts  and  laughtei 
of  children,  who  play  about  like  the  sunbeams  that 
come  down  through  the  branches.  Women  are  wash 
ing  in  open  spaces,  and  long  lines  of  whitened  clothes 
are  extended  from  tree  to  tree,  fluttering  and  gambol 
ling  in  the  breeze.  A  pig,  in  a  sty  even  more  extem 
porary  than  the  shanties,  is  grunting  and  poking  his 
snout  through  the  clefts  of  his  habitation.  The  house 
hold  pots  and  kettles  are  seen  at  the  doors ;  and  a 
glance  within  shows  the  rough  benches  that  serve  for 
chairs,  and  the  bed  upon  the  floor.  The  visitor's  nose 
takes  note  of  the  fragrance  of  a  pipe.  And  yet,  with 
all  these  homely  items,  the  repose  and  sanctity  of  the 
old  wood  do  not  seem  to  be  destroyed  or  profaned. 
It  overshadows  these  poor  people,  and  assimilates  them 
somehow  or  other  to  the  character  of  its  natural  inhab 
itants.  Their  presence  did  not  shock  me  any  more 
than  if  I  had  merely  discovered  a  squirrel's  nest  in  a 
tree.  To  be  sure,  it  is  a  torment  to  see  the  great, 
high,  ugly  embankment  of  the  railroad,  which  is  here 
thrusting  itself  into  the  lake,  or  along  its  margin,  in 
close  vicinity  to  this  picturesque  little  hamlet.  I  have 
Beldom  seen  anything  more  beautiful  than  the  cove  on 
the  border  of  which  the  huts  are  situated  ;  and  the 
more  I  looked,  the  lovelier  it  grew.  The  trees  over 
shadowed  it  deeply ;  but  on  one  side  there  was  some 
brilliant  shrubbery  which  seemed  to  light  up  the  wholfl 
picture  with  the  effect  of  a  sweet  and  melancholy  smile 


1844.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  361 

I  felt  as  if  spirits  were  there,  —  or  as  if  these  shrubs 
had  a  spiritual  life.  In  short,  the  impression  was  in 
definable  ;  and,  after  gazing  and  musing  a  good  while, 
I  retraced  my  steps  through  the  Irish  hamlet,  and 
plodded  on  along  a  wood-path. 

According  to  my  invariable  custom,  I  mistook  my 
way,  and,  emerging  upon  the  road,  I  turned  my  back 
instead  of  my  face  towards  Concord,  and  walked  on 
very  diligently  till  a  guide-board  informed  me  of  my 
mistake.  I  then  turned  about,  and  was  shortly  over 
taken  by  an  old  yeoman  in  a  chaise,  who  kindly  of 
fered  me  a  drive,  and  soon  set  me  down  in  the  village. 

EXTRACTS   FROM   LETTERS. 

Salem,  April  14tfA,  1844.  — ...  I  went  to  George 
Hillard's  office,  and  he  spoke  with  immitigable  reso 
lution  of  the  necessity  of  my  going  to  dine  with  Long 
fellow  before  returning  to  Concord  ;  but  I  have  an  al 
most  miraculous  power  of  escaping  from  necessities  of 
this  kind.  Destiny  itself  has  often  been  worsted  in 
the  attempt  to  get  me  out  to  dinner.  Possibty,  how 
ever,  I  may  go.  Afterwards,  I  called  on  Colonel  Hall, 
who  held  me  long  in  talk  about  politics  and  other 
sweetmeats.  Then  I  stepped  into  a  book  auction, 
not  to  buy,  but  merely  to  observe,  and,  after  a  few 
moments,  who  should  come  in,  with  a  smile  as  sweet 
as  sugar  (though  savoring  rather  of  molasses),  but,  to 

my  horror  and  petrifaction, !    I  anticipated 

a  great  deal  of  bore  and  botheration  ;  but,  through 
Heaven's  mercy,  he  merely  spoke  a  few  words,  and 
left  me.  This  is  so  unlike  his  deportment  in  times 
past,  that  I  suspect  "  The  Celestial  Kailroad  "  must 
have  given  him  a  pique ;  and,  if  so,  I  shall  feel  as  if 
Providence  had  sufficiently  rewarded  me  for  that  pious 
labor. 


362  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1844 

In  the  course  of  the  forenoon  I  encountered  Mr. 
Howes  in  the  street.  He  looked  most  exceedingly  de 
pressed,  and,  pressing  my  hand  with  peculiar  empha 
sis,  said  that  he  was  in  great  affliction,  having  just 
heard  of  his  son  George's  death  in  Cuba.  He  seemed 
encompassed  and  overwhelmed  by  this  misfortune* 
and  walks  the  street  as  in  a  heavy  cloud  of  his  own 
grief,  forth  from  which  he  extended  his  hand  to  meet 
my  grasp.  I  expressed  my  sympathy,  which  I  told 
him  I  was  now  the  more  capable  of  feeling  in  a 
father's  suffering,  as  being  myself  the  father  of  a  lit 
tle  girl,  —  and,  indeed,  the  being  a  parent  does  give 
one  the  freedom  of  a  wider  range  of  sorrow  as  well 
as  of  happiness.  He  again  pressed  my  hand,  and  left 
me.  .  .  . 

When  I  got  to  Salem,  there  was  great  joy,  as  you 
may  suppose.  .  .  .  Mother  hinted  an  apprehension 
that  poor  baby  would  be  spoilt,  whereupon  I  irrever 
ently  observed  that,  having  spoiled  her  own  three  chil 
dren,  it  was  natural  for  her  to  suppose  that  all  other 
parents  would  do  the  same ;  when  she  averred  that  it 

was  impossible  to  spoil  such  children  as  E and  I, 

because  she  had  never  been  able  to  do  anything  with 
us.  ...  I  could  hardly  convince  them  that  Una  had 
begam  to  smile  so  soon.  It  surprised  my  mother, 
though  her  own  children  appear  to  have  been  bright 

specimens  of  babyhood.  E could  walk  and  talk 

at  nine  months  old.  I  do  not  understand  that  I  was 
quite  such  a  miracle  of  precocity,  but  should  think  it 
not  impossible,  inasmuch  as  precocious  boys  are  said 
to  make  stupid  men. 

May  27th,  1844.  — ...  My  cook  fills  his  office 
admirably.  He  prepared  what  I  must  acknowledge 


1844.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  363 

to  be  the  best  dish  of  fried  fish  and  potatoes  for  din 
ner  to-day  that  I  ever  tasted  in  this  house.  I  scarcely 
recognized  the  fish  of  our  own  river.  I  make  him  get 
all  the  dinners,  while  I  confine  myself  to  the  much 
lighter  task  of  breakfast  and  tea.  He  also  takes  his 
turn  in  washing  the  dishes. 

We  had  a  very  pleasant  dinner  at  Longfellow's, 
and  I  liked  Mrs.  Longfellow  very  much.  The  dinner 

was  late  and  we   sat  long  ;  so  that  C and  I  did 

not  get  to  Concord  till  half  past  nine  o'clock,  and 
truly  the  old  manse  seemed  somewhat  dark  and  deso 
late.  The  next  morning  George  Prescott  came  with 
Una's  Lion,  who  greeted  me  very  affectionately,  but 
whined  and  moaned  as  if  he  missed  somebody  who 
should  have  been  here.  I  am  not  quite  so  strict  as  I 
should  be  in  keeping  him  out  of  the  house  ;  but  I 
commiserate  him  and  myself,  for  are  we  not  both  of 

us   bereaved  ?     C ,  whom  I   can   no   more   keep 

from  smoking  than  I  could  the  kitchen  chimney,  has 
just  come  into  the  study  with  a  cigar,  which  might 
perfume  this  letter  and  make  you  think  it  came  from 
my  own  enormity,  so  I  may  as  well  stop  here. 

May  29^A.  —  C is  leaving  me,  to  my  unspeak 
able  relief ;  for  he  has  had  a  bad  cold,  which  caused 
him  to  be  much  more  troublesome  and  less  amusing 
than  might  otherwise  have  been  the  case. 

May  31  st.  —  ...  I  get  along  admirably,  and  am 
at  this  moment  superintending  the  corned  beef,  which 
has  been  on  the  fire,  as  it  appears  to  me,  ever  since 
the  beginning  of  time,  and  shows  no  symptom  of  be 
ing  done  before  the  crack  of  doom.  Mrs.  Hale  says 
it  must  boil  till  it  becomes  tender  ;  and  so  it  shall,  if 
I  can  find  wood  to  keep  the  fire  a-going. 


364  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1844 

Meantime,  I  keep  my  station  in  the  dining-room, 
and  read  or  write  as  composedly  as  in  my  own  study. 
Just  now,  there  came  a  very  important  rap  at  the 
front  door,  and  I  threw  down  a  smoked  herring  which 
I  had  begun  to  eat,  as  there  is  no  hope  of  the  corned 
beef  to-day,  and  went  to  admit  the  visitor.  Who 

should  it  be  but  Ben  B ,  with  a  very  peculiar  and 

mysterious  grin  upon  his  face !  He  put  into  my  hand 
a  missive  directed  to  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hawthorne."  It 
contained  a  little  bit  of  card,  signifying  that  Dr.  L. 
F and  Miss  C.  B receive  their  friends  Thurs 
day  eve,  June  6.  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  too  busy 
washing  my  dishes  to  pay  many  visits.  The  washing 
of  dishes  does  seem  to  me  the  most  absurd  and  unsat 
isfactory  business  that  I  ever  undertook.  If,  when 
once  washed,  they  would  remain  clean  forever  and 
ever  (which  they  ought  in  all  reason  to  do,  consider 
ing  how  much  trouble  it  is),  there  would  be  less  oc 
casion  to  grumble  ;  but  no  sooner  is  it  done,  than  it 
requires  to  be  done  again.  On  the  whole,  I  have  come 
to  the  resolution  not  to  use  more  than  one  dish  at  each 
meal.  However,  I  moralize  deeply  on  this  and  other 
matters,  and  have  discovered  that  all  the  trouble  and 
affliction  in  the  world  come  from  the  necessity  of 
cleansing  away  our  earthly  stains. 

I  ate  the  last  morsel  of  bread  yesterday,  and  con 
gratulate  myself  on  being  now  reduced  to  the  fag-end 
of  necessity.  Nothing  worse  can  happen,  according  to 
ordinary  modes  of  thinking,  than  to  want  bread ;  but 
like  most  afflictions,  it  is  more  in  prospect  than  reality. 
I  found  one  cracker  in  the  tureen,  and  exulted  over  it 
as  if  it  had  been  so  much  gold.  However,  I  have  sent 
a  petition  to  Mrs.  P stating  my  destitute  condi 
tion,  and  imploring  her  succor ;  and,  till  it  arrive,  I 


J844.J  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  365 

shall  keep  myself  alive  on  herrings  and  apples,  to 
gether  with  part  of  a  pint  of  milk,  which  I  share  with 
Leo.  He  is  my  great  trouble  now,  though  an  excel 
lent  companion  too.  But  it  is  not  easy  to  find  food 
for  him,  unless  I  give  him  what  is  fit  for  Christians, 
—  though,  for  that  matter,  he  appears  to  be  as  good 
a  Christian  as  most  laymen,  or  even  as  some  of  the 
clergy.  I  fried  some  pouts  and  eels  yesterday,  on 
purpose  for  him,  for  he  does  not  like  raw  fish.  They 
were  very  good,  but  I  should  hardly  have  taken  the 
trouble  on  my  own  account. 

George  P has  just  come  to  say  that  Mrs.  P 

has  no  bread  at  present,  and  is  gone  away  this  after 
noon,  but  that  she  will  send  me  some  to-morrow.  I 
mean  to  have  a  regular  supply  from  the  same  source. 
.  .  .  You  cannot  imagine  how  much  the  presence  of 
Leo  relieves  the  feeling  of  perfect  loneliness.  He  in^ 
sists  upon  being  in  the  room  with  me  all  the  time,  ex 
cept  at  night,  when  he  sleeps  in  the  shed,  and  I  do  not 
find  myself  severe  enough  to  drive  him  out.  He  ac 
companies  me  likewise  in  all  my  walks  to  the  village 
and  elsewhere ;  and,  in  short,  keeps  at  my  heels,  all 
the  time,  except  when  I  go  down  cellar.  Then  he 
stands  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  and  howls,  as  if  he 
never  expected  to  see  me  again.  He  is  evidently  im 
pressed  with  the  present  solitude  of  our  old  abbey, 
both  on  his  own  account  and  mine,  and  feels  that  he 
may  assume  a  greater  degree  of  intimacy  than  would 
be  otherwise  allowable.  He  will  be  easily  brought 
within  the  old  regulations  after  your  return. 

P.  S.  3  o'clock.  —  The  beef  is  done  ! ! ! 

Concord.      The  Old  Manse.      June   2d.  — .    .    . 
Everything  goes  on  well  with  me.     At  the  time  of 


366  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1844 

writing  my  last  letter,  I  was  without  bread.  Well, 
just  at  supper-time  came  Mrs.  B with  a  large  cov 
ered  dish,  which  proved  to  contain  a  quantity  of  spe 
cially  good  flapjacks,  piping  hot,  prepared,  I  suppose, 
by  the  fair  hands  of  Miss  Martha  or  Miss  Abby,  for 

Mrs.  P was  not  at  home.     They  served  me  both 

for  supper  and  breakfast ;  and  I  thanked  Providence 
and  the  young  ladies,  and  compared  myself  to  the 
prophet  fed  by  ravens,  —  though  the  simile  does  rather 
more  than  justice  to  myself,  and  not  enough  to  the 
generous  donors  of  the  flapjacks.  The  next  morning, 

Mrs.  P herself  brought  two  big  loaves  of  bread, 

which  will  last  me  a  week,  unless  I  have  some  guests 
to  provide  for.  I  have  likewise  found  a  hoard  of 
crackers  in  one  of  the  covered  dishes ;  so  that  the  old 
castle  is  sufficiently  provisioned  to  stand  a  long  siege. 
The  corned  beef  is  exquisitely  done,  and  as  tender  as 
a  young  lady's  heart,  all  owing  to  my  skilful  cookery : 
for  I  consulted  Mrs.  Hale  at  every  step,  and  precisely 
followed  her  directions.  To  say  the  truth,  I  look  upon 
it  as  such  a  masterpiece  in  its  way,  that  it  seems  irrev- 
erential  to  eat  it.  Things  on  which  so  much  thought 
and  labor  are  bestowed  should  surely  be  immortal. 
.  .  .  Leo  and  I  attended  divine  services  this  morn 
ing  in  a  temple  not  made  with  hands.  We  went  to 
the  farthest  extremity  of  Peter's  path,  and  there  lay 
together  under  an  oak,  on  the  verge  of  the  broad 
meadow. 

Concord,  June  6th.  — ...  Mr.  F arrived  yes 
terday,  and  appeared  to  be  in  most  excellent  health, 
and  as  happy  as  the  sunshine.  About  the  first  thing 
he  did  was  to  wash  the  dishes ;  and  he  is  really  in« 
defatigable  in  the  kitchen,  so  that  I  am  quite  a  gentle 


1844.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  367 

man  of  leisure.  Previous  to  his  arrival,  I  had  kindled 
no  fire  for  four  entire  days,  and  had  lived  all  that 
time  on  the  corned  beef,  except  one  day,  when  Ellery 
and  I  went  down  the  river  on  a  fishing  excursion. 
Yesterday,  we  boiled  some  lamb,  which  we  shall  have 
cold  for  dinner  to-day.  This  morning,  Mr.  F — — • 
fried  a  sumptuous  dish  of  eels  for  breakfast.  Mrs.  P. 

continues  to  be  the  instrument  of  Providence, 

and  yesterday  sent  us  a  very  nice  plum-pudding. 

I  have  told  Mr.  F that  I  shall  be  engaged  in 

the  forenoons,  and  he  is  to  manage  his  own  occupa 
tions  and  amusements  during  that  time.  .  .  . 

Leo,  I  regret  to  say,  has  fallen  under  suspicion  of  a 
very  great  crime,  —  nothing  less  than  murder,  —  a 
fowl  crime  it  may  well  be  called,  for  it  is  the  slaughter 
of  one  of  Mr.  Hayward's  hens.  He  has  been  seen  to 
chase  the  hens,  several  times,  and  the  other  day  one  of 
them  was  found  dead.  Possibly  he  may  be  innocent, 
and,  as  there  is  nothing  but  circumstantial  evidence,  it 
must  be  left  with  his  own  conscience. 

Meantime,  Mr.  Hayward,  or  somebody  else,  seems 
to  have  given  him  such  a  whipping  that  he  is  abso 
lutely  stiff,  and  walks  about  like  a  rheumatic  old  gen 
tleman.  I  am  afraid,  too,  that  he  is  an  incorrigible 
thief.  Ellery  says  he  has  seen  him  coming  up  the 
avenue  with  a  calf's  whole  head  in  his  mouth.  How 
he  came  by  it  is  best  known  to  Leo  himself.  If  he 
were  a  dog  of  fair  character,  it  would  be  no  more  than 
charity  to  conclude  that  he  had  either  bought  it,  or 
had  it  given  to  him ;  but  with  the  other  charges  against 
him,  it  inclines  me  to  great  distrust  of  his  moral  prin 
ciples.  Be  that  as  it  may,  he  managed  his  stock  of 
provisions  very  thriftily,  —  burying  it  in  the  earth, 
and  eating  a  portion  of  it  whenever  he  felt  an  appe- 


368  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1850 

tite.  If  he  insists  upon  living  by  highway  robbery, 
it  would  be  well  to  make  him  share  his  booty  with 
us.  ... 

June  10th.  —  ...  Mr.  F is  in  perfect  health, 

and  absolutely  in  the  seventh  heaven,  and  he  talks  and 
talks  and  talks  and  talks ;  and  I  listen  and  listen  and 
listen  with  a  patience  for  which,  in  spite  of  all  my 
sins,  I  firmly  expect  to  be  admitted  to  the  mansions  of 
the  blessed.  And  there  is  really  a  contentment  in  be 
ing  able  to  make  this  poor,  world-worn,  hopeless,  half- 
crazy  man  so  entirely  comfortable  as  he  seems  to  be 
here.  He  is  an  admirable  cook.  We  had  some  roast 
veal  and  a  baked  rice-pudding  on  Sunday,  really  a  fine 
dinner,  and  cooked  in  better  style  than  Mary  can 
equal ;  and  George  Curtis  came  to  dine  with  us.  Like 
all  male  cooks,  he  is  rather  expensive,  and  lias  a  ten 
dency  to  the  consumption  of  eggs  in  his  various  con 
coctions.  ...  I  have  had  my  dreams  of  splendor; 
but  never  expected  to  arrive  at  the  dignity  of  keeping 
a  man-cook.  At  first  we  had  three  meals  a  day,  but 
now  only  two.  .  .  . 

We  dined  at  Mr.  Emerson's  the  other  day,  in  com 
pany  with  Mr.  Hedge.  Mr.  Bradford  has  been  to  see 
us  two  or  three  times.  .  .  .  He  looks  thinner  than 
ever. 

PASSAGES    FROM   NOTE-BOOKS. 

May  5^,  1850.  —  I  left  Portsmouth  last  Wednes 
day,  at  the  quarter  past  twelve,  by  the  Concord  Rail 
road,  which  at  Newcastle  unites  with  the  Boston  ancj 
Maine  Railroad  about  ten  miles  from  Portsmouth. 
The  station  at  Newcastle  is  a  small  wooden  building, 


1550.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  369 

with  one  railroad  passing  on  one  side,  and  another  on 
another,  and  the  two  crossing  each  other  at  right  an 
gles.  At  a  little  distance  stands  a  black,  large,  old, 
wooden  church,  with  a  square 'tower,  and  broken  win 
dows,  and  a  great  rift  through  the  middle  of  the  roof, 
all  in  a  stage  of  dismal  ruin  and  decay.  A  farm-house 
of  the  old  style,  with  a  long  sloping  roof,  and  as  black 
as  the  church,  stands  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  road, 
with  its  barns ;  and  these  are  all  the  buildings  in  sight 
of  the  railroad  station.  On  the  Concord  rail  is  the 
train  of  cars,  with  the  locomotive  puffing,  and  blowing 
off  its  steam,  and  making  a  great  bluster  in  that  lonely 
place,  while  along  the  other  railroad  stretches  the  des 
olate  track,  with  the  withered  weeds  growing  up  be 
twixt  the  two  lines  of  iron,  all  so  desolate.  And  anon 
you  hear  a  low  thunder  running  along  these  iron  rails ; 
it  grows  louder ;  an  object  is  seen  afar  off ;  it  ap 
proaches  rapidly,  and  comes  down  upon  you  like  fate, 
swift  and  inevitable.  In  a  moment,  it  dashes  along  in 
front  of  the  station-house,  and  comes  to  a  pause,  the 
locomotive  hissing  and  fuming  in  its  eagerness  to  go 
on.  How  much  life  has  come  at  once  into  this  lonely 
place!  Four  or  five  long  cars,  each,  perhaps,  with 
fifty  people  in  it,  reading  newspapers,  reading  pam 
phlet  novels,  chattering,  sleeping;  all  this  vision  of 
passing  life !  A  moment  passes,  while  the  luggage- 
men  are  putting  on  the  trunks  and  packages;  then 
the  bell  strikes  a  few  times,  and  away  goes  the  train 
again,  quickly  out  of  sight  of  those  who  remain  be 
hind,  while  a  solitude  of  hours  again  broods  over  the 
station-house,  which,  for  an  instant,  has  thus  been  put 
in  communication  with  far-off  cities,  and  then  remains 
by  itself,  with  the  old,  black,  ruinous  church,  and  the 
black  old  farm-house,  both  built  years  and  years  ago, 


VOL.   IX 


870  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1850 

before  railroads  were  ever  dreamed  of.  Meantime, 
the  passenger,  stepping  from  the  solitary  station  into 
the  train,  finds  himself  in  the  midst  of  a  new  world  all 
in  a  moment.  He  rushes  out  of  the  solitude  into  a 
village ;  thence,  through  woods  and  hills,  into  a  large 
inland  town ;  beside  the  Merrimack,  which  has  over 
flowed  its  banks,  and  eddies  along,  turbid  as  a  vast 
mud-puddle,  sometimes  almost  laving  the  doorstep  of 
a  house,  and  with  trees  standing  in  the  flood  half-way 
up  their  trunks.  Boys,  with  newspapers  to  sell,  or 
apples  and  lozenges ;  many  passengers  departing  and 
entering,  at  each  new  station ;  the  more  permanent 
passenger,  with  his  check  or  ticket  stuck  in  his  hat 
band,  where  the  conductor  may  see  it.  A  party  of 
girls,  playing  at  ball  with  a  young  man.  Altogether 
it  is  a  scene  of  stirring  life,  with  which  a  person  who 
had  been  waiting  long  for  the  train  to  come  might  find 
it  difficult  at  once  to  amalgamate  himself. 

It  is  a  sombre,  brooding  day,  and  begins  to  rain  as 
the  cars  pass  onward.  In  a  little  more  than  two  hours 
we  find  ourselves  in  Boston  surrounded  by  eager  hack- 
men. 

Yesterday  I  went  to  the  Athenseum,  and,  being  re 
ceived  with  great  courtesy  by  Mr.  Folsom,  was  shown 
all  over  the  edifice  from  the  very  bottom  to  the  very 
top,  whence  I  looked  out  over  Boston.  It  is  an  ad 
mirable  point  of  view ;  but,  it  being  an  overcast  and 
misty  day,  I  did  not  get  the  full  advantage  of  it.  The 
library  is  in  a  noble  hall,  and  looks  splendidly  with  its 
vista  of  alcoves.  The  most  remarkable  sight,  how 
ever,  was  Mr.  Hildreth,  writing  his  history  of  the 
United  States.  He  sits  at  a  table,  at  the  entrance  of 
one  of  the  alcoves,  with  his  books  and  papers  before 
him,  as  quiet  and  absorbed  as  he  would  be  in  the  lone* 


1850.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  371 

liest  study;  now  consulting  an  authority;  now  pen 
ning  a  sentence  or  paragraph,  without  seeming  con- 
seious  of  anything  but  his  subject.  It  is  very  curious 
thus  to  have  a  glimpse  of  a  book  in  process  of  creation 
under  one's  eye.  I  know  not  how  many  hours  he  sits 
there  ;  but  while  I  saw  him  he  was  a  pattern  of  dili 
gence  and  unwandering  thought.  He  had  taken  him 
self  out  of  the  age,  and  put  himself,  I  suppose,  into 
that  about  which  he  was  writing.  Being  deaf,  he  finds 
it  much  the  easier  to  abstract  himself.  Nevertheless, 
it  is  a  miracle.  He  is  a  thin,  middle-aged  man,  in 
black,  with  an  intelligent  face,  rather  sensible  than 
scholar-like. 

Mr.  Folsom  accompanied  me  to  call  upon  Mr.  Tick 
nor,  the  historian  of  Spanish  literature.  He  has  a  fine 
house,  at  the  corner  of  Park  and  Beacon  Streets,  per 
haps  the  very  best  position  in  Boston.  A  marble  hall, 
a  wide  and  easy  staircase,  a  respectable  old  man-ser 
vant,  evidently  long  at  home  in  the  mansion,  to  admit 
us.  We  entered  the  library,  Mr.  Folsom  considerably 
in  advance,  as  being  familiar  with  the  house ;  and  I 
heard  Mr.  Ticknor  greet  him  in  friendly  tones,  their 
scholar -like  and  bibliographical  pursuits,  I  suppose, 
bringing  them  into  frequent  conjunction.  Then  I  was 
introduced,  and  received  with  great  distinction,  but 
yet  without  any  ostentatious  flourish  of  courtesy.  Mr. 
Ticknor  has  a  great  head,  and  his  hair  is  gray  or  gray 
ish.  You  recognize  in  him  at  once  the  man  who  knows 
the  world,  the  scholar,  too,  which  probably  is  his  more 
distinctive  character,  though  a  little  more  under  the 
surface.  He  was  in  his  slippers ;  a  volume  of  his  book 
was  open  on  a  table,  and  apparently  he  had  been  en 
gaged  in  revising  or  annotating  it.  His  library  is  a 
stately  and  beautiful  room  for  a  private  dwelling,  and 


872  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [185<X 

itself  looks  large  and  rich.  The  fireplace  has  a  white 
marble  frame  about  it,  sculptured  with  figures  and  re 
liefs.  Over  it  hung  a  portrait  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  a 
copy,  I  think,  of  the  one  that  represents  him  in  Mel* 
rose  Abbey. 

Mr.  Ticknor  was  most  kind  in  his  alacrity  to  solve 
the  point  on  which  Mr.  Folsom,  in  my  behalf,  had  con 
suited  him  (as  to  whether  there  had  been  any  Eng 
lish  translation  of  the  Tales  of  Cervantes)  ;  and  most 
liberal  in  his  offers  of  books  from  his  library.  Cer 
tainly,  he  is  a  fine  example  of  a  generous-principled 
scholar,  anxious  to  assist  the  human  intellect  in  its  ef 
forts  and  researches.  Methinks  he  must  have  spent  a 
happy  life  (as  happiness  goes  among  mortals),  writing 
his  great  three-volumed  book  for  twenty  years ;  writ 
ing  it,  not  for  bread,  nor  with  any  uneasy  desire  of 
fame,  but  only  with  a  purpose  to  achieve  something 
true  and  enduring.  He  is,  I  apprehend,  a  man  of 
great  cultivation  and  refinement,  and  with  quite  sub 
stance  enough  to  be  polished  and  refined,  without  be 
ing  worn  too  thin  in  the  process,  —  a  man  of  society. 
He  related  a  singular  story  of  an  attempt  of  his  to  be 
come  acquainted  with  me  years  ago,  when  he  mistook 
my  kinsman  Eben  for  me. 

At  half  past  four,  I  went  to  Mr.  Thompson's,  the 
artist  who  has  requested  to  paint  my  picture.  This 
was  the  second  sitting.  The  portrait  looked  dimly  out 
from  the  canvas,  as  from  a  cloud,  with  something  that 
I  could  recognize  as  my  outline,  but  no  strong  resem 
blance  as  yet.  I  have  had  three  portraits  taken  before 
this,  —  an  oil  picture,  a  miniature,  and  a  crayon  sketch, 
—  neither  of  them  satisfactory  to  those  most  familial 
with  my  physiognomy.  In  fact,  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  a  true  portrait ;  they  are  all  delusions,  and  J 


1850.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  373 

never  saw  any  two  alike,  nor  hardly  any  two  that  I 
would  recognize  merely  by  the  portraits  themselves,  as 
being  of  the  same  man.  A  bust  has  more  reality. 
This  artist  is  a  man  of  thought,  and  with  no  mean  idea 
of  his  art ;  a  Swedenborgian,  or,  as  he  prefers  to  call 
it,  a  member  of  the  New  Church  ;  and  I  have  gener 
ally  found  something  marked  in  men  who  adopt  that 
faith.  He  had  painted  a  good  picture  of  Bryant.  He 
seems  to  me  to  possess  truth  in  himself,  and  to  aim  at 
it  in  his  artistic  endeavors. 

May  6th.  —  This  morning  it  is  an  easterly  rain 
(south-easterly,  I  should  say  just  now  at  twelve 
o'clock),  and  I  went  at  nine,  by  appointment,  to  sit 
for  my  picture.  The  artist  painted  awhile  ;  but  soon 
found  that  he  had  not  so  much  light  as  was  desirable, 
and  complained  that  his  tints  were  as  muddy  as  the 
weather.  Further  sitting  was  therefore  postponed  till 
to-morrow  at  eleven.  It  will  be  a  good  picture  ;  but 
I  see  no  assurance,  as  yet,  of  the  likeness.  An  artist's 
apartment  is  always  very  interesting  to  me,  with  its 
pictures,  finished  and  unfinished ;  its  little  fancies  in 
the  pictorial  way,  —  as  here  two  sketches  of  children 
among  flowers  and  foliage,  representing  Spring  and 
Summer,  Winter  and  Autumn  being  yet  to  come  out 
of  the  artist's  mind ;  the  portraits  of  his  wife  and  chil 
dren  ;  here  a  clergyman,  there  a  poet ;  here  a  woman 
with  the  stamp  of  reality  upon  her,  there  a  feminine 
conception  which  we  feel  not  to  have  existed.  There 
was  an  infant  Christ,  or  rather  a  child  Christ,  not  un- 
beautiful,  but  scarcely  divine.  I  love  the  odor  of 
paint  in  an  artist's  room ;  his  palette  and  all  his  other 
tools  have  a  mysterious  charm  for  me.  The  pursuit 
has  always  interested  my  imagination  more  than  anj 


374  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1861 

other,  and  I  remember,  before  having  my  first  portrait 
taken,  there  was  a  great  bewitchery  in  the  idea,  as  if 
it  were  a  magic  process.  Even  now,  it  is  not  without 
interest  to  me. 

I  left  Mr.  Thompson  before  ten,  and  took  my  way 
through  the  sloppy  streets  to  the  Athenaeum,  where  I 
looked  over  the  newspapers  and  periodicals,  and  found 
two  of  my  old  stories  ("  Peter  Goldthwaite  "  and  the 
"  Shaker  Bridal ")  published  as  original  in  the  last 
"  London  Metropolitan !  "  The  English  are  much  more 
unscrupulous  and  dishonest  pirates  than  ourselves. 
However,  if  they  are  poor  enough  to  perk  themselves 
in  such  false  feathers  as  these,  Heaven  help  them !  I 
glanced  over  the  stories,  and  they  seemed  painfully 
cold  and  dull.  It  is  the  more  singular  that  these 
should  be  so  published,  inasmuch  as  the  whole  book 
was  republished  in  London,  only  a  few  months  ago. 
Mr.  Fields  tells  me  that  two  publishers  in  London 
had  advertised  the  "  Scarlet  Letter  "  as  in  press,  each 
book  at  a  shilling. 

Certainly  life  is  made  much  more  tolerable,  and 
man  respects  himself  far  more,  when  he  takes  his 
meals  with  a  certain  degree  of  order  and  state.  There 
should  be  a  sacred  law  in  these  matters ;  and,  as  con 
secrating  the  whole  business,  the  preliminary  prayer 
is  a  good  and  real  ordinance.  The  advance  of  man 
from  a  savage  and  animal  state  may  be  as  well  meas 
ured  by  his  mode  and  morality  of  dining,  as  by  any 
other  circumstance.  At  Mr.  Fields's,  soon  after  enter 
ing  the  house,  I  heard  the  brisk  and  cheerful  notes  of 
a  canary-bird,  singing  with  great  vivacity,  and  making 
its  voice  echo  through  the  large  rooms.  It  was  very 
pleasant  at  the  close  of  the  rainy,  east-windy  day,  and 
seemed  to  fling  sunshine  through  the  dwelling. 


1850.J  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  375 

May  7th.  —  I  did  not  go  out  yesterday  afternoon, 
but  after  tea  I  went  to  Parker's.  The  drinking  and 
smoking  shop  is  no  bad  place  to  see  one  kind  of  life. 
The  front  apartment  is  for  drinking.  The  door  opens 
into  Court  Square,  and  is  denoted,  usually,  by  some 
choice  specimens  of  dainties  exhibited  in  the  windows, 
or  hanging  beside  the  door-post;  as,  for  instance,  a 
pair  of  canvas-back  ducks,  distinguishable  by  their  del 
icately  mottled  feathers ;  an  admirable  cut  of  raw 
beefsteak ;  a  ham,  ready  boiled,  and  with  curious  fig 
ures  traced  in  spices  on  its  outward  fat ;  a  half,  or  per 
chance  the  whole,  of  a  large  salmon,  when  in  season  ;  a 
bunch  of  partridges,  etc.,  etc.  A  screen  stands  directly 
before  the  door,  so  as  to  conceal  the  interior  from  an 
outside  barbarian.  At  the  counter  stand,  at  almost  all 
hours,  —  certainly  at  all  hours  when  I  have  chanced 
to  observe,  — -  tipplers,  either  taking  a  solitary  glass, 
or  treating  all  round,  veteran  topers,  flashy  young  men, 
visitors  from  the  country,  the  various  petty  officers 
connected  with  the  law,  whom  the  vicinity  of  the 
Court-House  brings  hither.  Chiefly,  they  drink  plain- 
liquors,  gin,  brandy,  or  whiskey,  sometimes  a  Tom  and. 
Jerry,  a  gin  cocktail  (which  the  bar-tender  makes  ar 
tistically,  tossing  it  in  a  large  parabola  from  one  turn 
bier  to  another,  until  fit  for  drinking),  a  brandy-smas!iv 
and  numerous  other  concoctions.  All  this  toping 
goes  forward  with  little  or  no  apparent  exhilaration  ci 
spirits ;  nor  does  this  seem  to  be  the  object  sought,  — 
it  being  rather,  I  imagine,  to  create  a  titillation  of  the 
coats  of  the  stomach  and  a  general  sense  of  invigora- 
tion,  without  affecting  the  brain.  Very  seldom  does  a 
man  grow  wild  and  unruly. 

The  inner  room  is  hung  round  with  pictures  and 
engravings  of  various  kinds,  —  a  painting  of  a  pre 


876  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [185ft 

mium  ox,  a  lithograph  of  a  Turk  and  of  a  Turkish 
lady,  .  .  .  and  various  showily  engraved  tailors'  ad 
vertisements,  and  other  shop-bills  ;  among  them  all,  a 
small  painting  of  a  drunken  toper,  sleeping  on  a  bench 
beside  the  grog-shop,  —  a  ragged,  half-hatless,  bloated, 
red-nosed,  jolly,  miserable-looking  devil,  very  well  done, 
and  strangely  suitable  to  the  room  in  which  it  hangs. 
Round  the  walls  are  placed  some  half  a  dozen  marble^ 
topped  tables,  and  a  centre-table  in  the  midst;  most 
of  them  strewn  with  theatrical  and  other  show-bills ; 
and  the  large  theatre-bills,  with  their  type  of  gigantic 
solidity  and  blackness,  hung  against  the  walls. 

Last  evening,  when  I  entered,  there  was  one  guest 
somewhat  overcome  with  liquor,  and  slumbering  with 
his  chair  tipped  against  one  of  the  marble  tables.  In 
the  course  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  he  roused  himself 
(a  plain,  middle-aged  man),  and  went  out  with  rather 
an  unsteady  step,  and  a  hot,  red  face.  One  or  two 
others  were  smoking,  and  looking  over  the  papers,  or 
glancing  at  a  play-bill.  From  the  centre  of  the  ceil 
ing  descended  a  branch  with  two  gas-burners,  which 
sufficiently  illuminated  every  corner  of  the  room. 
Nothing  is  so  remarkable  in  these  bar-rooms  and 
drinking-places,  as  the  perfect  order  that  prevails :  if 
a  man  gets  drunk,  it  is  no  otherwise  perceptible  than 
by  his  going  to  sleep,  or  his  inability  to  walk. 

Pacing  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  this  grog-shop  of 
Parker's  (or  sometimes,  on  cold  and  rainy  days,  tak 
ing  his  station  inside),  there  is  generally  to  be  ob 
served  an  elderly  ragamuffin,  in  a  dingy  and  battered 
hat,  an  old  surtout,  and  a  more  than  shabby  general 
aspect ;  a  thin  face  and  red  nose,  a  patch  over  one 
eye,  and  the  other  half  drowned  in  moisture.  H« 
leans  in  a  slightly  stooping  posture  on  a  stick,  forlorn 


1850.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  377 

and  silent,  addressing  nobody,  but  fixing  his  one  moist 
eye  on  you  with  a  certain  intentness.  He  is  a  man 
who  has  been  in  decent  circumstances  at  some  former 
period  of  his  life,  but,  falling  into  decay  (perhaps  by 
dint  of  too  frequent  visits  at  Parker's  bar),  he  now 
haunts  about  the  place,  as  a  ghost  haunts  the  spot 
where  he  was  murdered,  "to  collect  his  rents,"  as 
Parker  says,  —  that  is,  to  catch  an  occasional  nine- 
pence  from  some  charitable  acquaintances,  or  a  glass 
of  liquor  at  the  bar.  The  word  "  ragamuffin,"  which 
I  have  used  above,  does  not  accurately  express  the 
man,  because  there  is  a  sort  of  shadow  or  delusion  of 
respectability  about  him,  and  a  sobriety  too,  and  a 
kind  of  decency  in  his  groggy  and  red-nosed  destitu 
tion. 

Underground,  beneath  the  drinking  and  smoking 
rooms,  is  Parker's  eating-hall,  extending  all  the  way 
to  Court  Street.  All  sorts  of  good  eating  may  be  had 
there,  and  a  gourmand  may  feast  at  what  expense  he 
will 

I  take  an  interest  in  all  the  nooks  and  crannies  and 
every  development  of  cities ;  so  here  I  try  to  make  a 
description  of  the  view  from  the  back  windows  of  a 
house  in  the  centre  of  Boston,  at  which  I  now  glance 
in  the  intervals  of  writing.  The  view  is  bounded,  at 
perhaps  thirty  yards'  distance,  by  a  row  of  opposite 
brick  dwellings,  standing,  I  think,  on  Temple  Place ; 
houses  of  the  better  order,  with  tokens  of  genteel  fam 
ilies  visible  in  all  the  rooms  betwixt  the  basements 
and  the  attic  windows  in  the  roof ;  plate-glass  in  the 
rear  drawing-rooms,  flower-pots  in  some  of  the  win 
dows  of  the  upper  stories.  Occasionally,  a  lady's 
figure,  either  seated  or  appearing  with  a  flitting  grace, 


378  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1850 

or  dimly  manifest  farther  within  the  obscurity  of  the 
room.  A  balcony,  with  a  wrought-iron  fence  running 
along  under  the  row  of  drawing-room  windows,  above 
the  basement.  In  the  space  betwixt  the  opposite  row 
of  dwellings  and  that  in  which  I  am  situated  are  the 
low  out-houses  of  the  above-described  houses,  with  flat 
roofs ;  or  solid  brick  walls,  with  walks  on  them,  and 
high  railings,  for  the  convenience  of  the  washerwomen 
in  hanging  out  their  clothes.  In  the  intervals  are 
grass-plots,  already  green,  because  so  sheltered  ;  and 
fruit-trees,  now  beginning  to  put  forth  their  leaves, 
and  one  of  them,  a  cherry-tree,  almost  in  full  blossom. 
Birds  flutter  and  sing  among  these  trees.  I  should 
judge  it  a  good  site  for  the  growth  of  delicate  fruit ; 
for,  quite  enclosed  on  all  sides  by  houses,  the  blighting 
winds  cannot  molest  the  trees.  They  have  sunshine 
oil  them  a  good  part  of  the  day,  though  the  shadow 
must  come  early,  and  I  suppose  there  is  a  rich  soil 
about  the  roots.  I  see  grapevines  clambering  against 
one  wall,  and  also  peeping  over  another,  where  the 
main  body  of  the  vine  is  invisible  to  me.  In  another 
place,  a  frame  is  erected  for  a  grapevine,  and  probably 
it  will  produce  as  rich  clusters  as  the  vines  of  Madeira 
here  in  the  heart  of  the  city,  in  this  little  spot  of  fruc 
tifying  earth,  while  the  thunder  of  wheels  rolls  about 
it  on  every  side.  The  trees  are  not  all  fruit-trees. 
One  pretty  well-grown  button  wood-tree  aspires  upward 
above  the  roofs  of  the  houses.  In  the  full  verdure  of 
Bummer,  there  will  be  quite  a  mass  or  curtain  of  foli 
age  between  the  hither  and  the  thither  row  of  houses. 

Afternoon.  —  At  eleven,  I  went  to  give  Mr.  Thomp 
son  a  sitting  for  my  picture.  I  like  the  painter.  He 
seems  to  reverence  his  art,  and  to  aim  at  truth  in  it, 


1850.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  379 

as  I  said  before  ;  a  man  of  gentle  disposition  too.  and 
simplicity  of  life  and  character.  I  seated  myself  in 
the  pictorial  chair,  with  the  only  light  in  the  room 
descending  upon  me  from  a  high  opening,  almost  at 
the  ceiling,  the  rest  of  the  sole  window  being  shut* 
tered.  He  began  to  work,  and  we  talked  in  an  idle 
and  desultory  way,  —  neither  of  us  feeling  very  con 
versable,  —  which  he  attributed  to  the  atmosphere,  it 
being  a  bright,  westwindy,  bracing  day.  We  talked 
about  the  pictures  of  Christ,  and  how  inadequate  and 
untrue  they  are.  He  said  he  thought  artists  should 
attempt  only  to  paint  child-Christs,  human  powers  be 
ing  inadequate  to  the  task  of  painting  such  purity  and 
holiness  in  a  manly  development.  Then  he  said  that 
an  idea  of  a  picture  had  occurred  to  him  that  morning 
while  reading  a  chapter  in  the  New  Testament,  —  how 
"  they  parted  his  garments  among  them,  and  for  his 
vesture  did  cast  lots."  His  picture  was  to  represent 
the  soldier  to  whom  the  garment  without  a  seam  had 
fallen,  after  taking  it  home  and  examining  it,  and  be 
coming  impressed  with  a  sense  of  the  former  wearer's 
holiness.  I  do  not  quite  see  how  he  would  make  such 
a  picture  tell  its  own  story  ;  —  but  I  find  the  idea  sug 
gestive  to  my  own  mind,  and  I  think  I  could  make 
something  of  it.  We  talked  of  physiognomy  and  im 
pressions  of  character,  —  first  impressions,  —  and  how 
apt  they  are  to  come  aright  in  the  face  of  the  closest 
subsequent  observation. 

There  were  several  visitors  in  the  course  of  the  sit 
ting,  one  a  gentleman,  a  connection  from  the  coun 
try,  with  whom  the  artist  talked  about  family  matters 
and  personal  affairs,  —  observing  on  the  poorness  of 
his  own  business,  and  that  he  had  thoughts  of  return 
ing  to  New  York.  I  wish  he  would  meet  with  bettei 


380  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [185<X 

success.  Two  or  three  ladies  also  looked  in.  Mean 
while  Mr.  Thompson  had  been  painting  with  more  and 
more  eagerness,  casting  quick,  keen  glances  at  me,  arid 
then  making  hasty  touches  on  the  picture,  as  if  to  se« 
cure  with  his  brush  what  he  had  caught  with  his  eye. 
He  observed  that  he  was  just  getting  interested  in  the 
work,  and  I  could  recognize  the  feeling  that  was  in 
him  as  akin  to  what  I  have  experienced  myself  in  the 
glow  of  composition.  Nevertheless,  he  seemed  able  to 
talk  about  foreign  matters,  through  it  all.  He  con 
tinued  to  paint  in  this  rapid  way,  up  to  the  moment 
of  closing  the  sitting ;  when  he  took  the  canvas  from 
the  easel,  without  giving  me  time  to  mark  what  prog 
ress  he  had  made,  as  he  did  the  last  time. 

The  artist  is  middle-sized,  thin,  a  little  stooping,  with 
a  quick,  nervous  movement.  He  has  black  hair,  not 
thick,  a  beard  under  his  chin,  a  small  head,  but  well- 
developed  forehead,  black  eyebrows,  eyes  keen,  but 
kindly,  and  a  dark  face,  not  indicating  robust  health, 
but  agreeable  in  its  expression.  His  voice  is  gentle 
and  sweet,  and  such  as  comes  out  from  amidst  refined 
feelings.  He  dresses  very  simply  and  unpictorially  in 
a  gray  frock  or  sack,  and  does  not  seem  to  think  of 
making  a  picture  of  himself  in  his  own  person. 

At  dinner  to-day  there  was  a  young  Frenchman, 

whom befriended  a  year  or  so  ago,  when  he  had 

not  another  friend  in  America,  and  obtained  employ 
ment  for  him  in  a  large  dry-goods  establishment.  He 
is  a  young  man  of  eighteen  or  thereabouts,  with  smooth 
black  hair,  neatly  dressed  ;  his  face  showing  a  good 
disposition,  but  with  nothing  of  intellect  or  character. 
It  is  funny  to  think  of  this  poor  little  Frenchman,  a 
Parisian  too,  eating  our  most  un-French  victuals,  — 
our  beefsteaks,  and  roasts,  and  various  homely  pud- 


1850.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  381 

dings,  and  hams,  and  all  things  most  incongruent  to 
his  hereditary  stomach  ;  but  nevertheless  he  eats  most 
cheerfully  and  uncomplainingly.  He  has  not  a  large 
measure  of  French  vivacity,  never  rattles,  never  dances, 
nor  breaks  into  ebullitions  of  mirth  and  song  ;  011  the 
contrary,  I  have  never  known  a  youth  of  his  age  more 
orderly  and  decorous.  He  is  kind-hearted  and  grate 
ful,  and  evinces  his  gratitude  to  the  mother  of  the 
family  and  to  his  benefactress  by  occasional  presents, 
not  trifling  when  measured  by  his  small  emolument  of 
five  dollars  per  week.  Just  at  this  time  he  is  confined 
to  his  room  by  indisposition,  caused,  it  is  suspected, 
by  a  spree  on  Sunday  last.  Our  gross  Saxon  orgies 
would  soon  be  the  ruin  of  his  French  constitution. 

A  thought  to-day.  Great  men  need  to  be  liftecj 
upon  the  shoulders  of  the  whole  world,  in  order  to 
conceive  their  great  ideas  or  perform  their  great  deeds. 
That  is,  there  must  be  an  atmosphere  of  greatness 
round  about  them.  A  hero  cannot  be  a  hero  unless 
in  an  heroic  world. 

May  8th.  —  I  went  last  evening  to  the  National 
Theatre  to  see  a  pantomime.  It  was  Jack  the  Giant- 
Killer,  and  somewhat  heavy  and  tedious.  The  audi 
ence  was  more  noteworthy  than  the  play.  The  thea 
tre  itself  is  for  the  middling  and  lower  classes,  and  I 
had  not  taken  my  seat  in  the  most  aristocratic  part  of 
the  house ;  so  that  I  found  myself  surrounded  chiefly 
by  young  sailors,  Hanover  Street  shopmen,  mechan 
ics,  and  other  people  of  that  class.  It  is  wonderful  I 
the  difference  that  exists  in  the  personal  aspect  and 
dress,  and  no  less  in  the  manners,  of  people  in  this 
quarter  of  the  city,  as  compared  with  other  parts  of  it' 


882  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1850 

One  would  think  that  Oak  Hall  should  give  a  com 
mon  garb  and  air  to  the  great  mass  of  the  Boston  pop 
ulation ;  but  it  seems  not  to  be  so ;  and  perhaps  what 
is  most  singular  is,  that  the  natural  make  of  the  men 
has  a  conformity  and  suitableness  to  the  dress.  Glazed 
caps  and  Palo  Alto  hats  were  much  worn.  It  is  a 
pity  that  this  picturesque  and  comparatively  graceful 
hat  should  not  have  been  generally  adopted,  instead 
of  falling  to  the  exclusive  use  of  a  rowdy  class. 

In  the  next  box  to  me  were  two  young  women,  with 
an  infant,  but  to  which  of  them  appertaining  I  could 
not  at  first  discover.  One  was  a  large,  plump  girl, 
with  a  heavy  face,  a  snub  nose,  coarse-looking,  but 
good-natured,  and  with  no  traits  of  evil,  —  save,  in 
deed,  that  she  had  on  the  vilest  gown  of  dirty  white 
cotton,  so  pervadingly  dingy  that  it  was  white  no 
longer,  as  it  seemed  to  me.  The  sleeves  were  short, 
and  ragged  at  the  borders,  and  her  shawl,  which  she 
took  off  on  account  of  the  heat,  was  old  and  faded,  — 
the  shabbiest  and  dirtiest  dress  that  I  ever  saw  a 
woman  wear.  Yet  she  was  plump,  and  looked  com 
fortable  in  body  and  mind.  I  imagine  that  she  must 
have  had  a  better  dress  at  home,  but  had  come  to  the 
theatre  extemporaneously,  and,  not  going  to  the  dress 
circle,  considered  her  ordinary  gown  good  enough  for 
the  occasion.  The  other  girl  seemed  as  young  or 
younger  than  herself.  She  was  small,  with  a  particu 
larly  intelligent  and  pleasant  face,  not  handsome,  per 
haps,  but  as  good  or  better  than  if  it  were.  It  was 
mobile  with  whatever  sentiment  chanced  to  be  in  her 
mind,  as  quick  and  vivacious  a  face  in  its  movements 
as  I  have  ever  seen ;  cheerful,  too,  and  indicative  of  a 
sunny,  though  I  should  think  it  might  be  a  hasty,  tern, 
per.  She  was  dressed  in  a  dark  gown  (chintz,  I  sup 


1850.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  383 

pose,  the  women  call  it),  a  good,  homely  dress,  proper 
enough  for  the  fireside,  but  a  strange  one  to  appear  in 
at  a  theatre.  Both  these  girls  appeared  to  enjoy  them 
selves  very  much,  —  the  large  and  heavy  one  in  her 
own  duller  mode ;  the  smaller  manifesting  her  interest 
by  gestures,  pointing  at  the  stage,  and  with  so  vivid  a 
talk  of  countenance  that  it  was  precisely  as  if  she  had 
spoken.  She  was  not  a  brunette,  and  this  made  the 
vivacity  of  her  expression  the  more  agreeable.  Her 
companion,  on  the  other  hand,  was  so  dark,  that  I 
rather  suspected  her  to  have  a  tinge  of  African  blood. 

There  were  two  men  who  seemed  to  have  some  con 
nection  with  these  girls,  —  one  an  elderly,  gray-headed 
personage,  well-stricken  in  liquor,  talking  loudly  and 
foolishly,  but  good-humoredly ;  the  other  a  young  man, 
sober,  and  doing  his  best  to  keep  his  elder  friend 
quiet.  The  girls  seemed  to  give  themselves  no  uneasi 
ness  about  the  matter.  Both  the  men  wore  Palo  Alto 
hats.  I  could  not  make  out  whether  either  of  the  men 
were  the  father  of  the  child,  though  I  was  inclined  to 
set  it  down  as  a  family  party. 

As  the  play  went  on,  the  house  became  crowded 
and  oppressively  warm,  and  the  poor  little  baby  grew 
dark  red,  or  purple  almost,  with  the  uncomfortable 
heat  in  its  small  body.  It  must  have  been  accustomed 
to  discomfort,  and  have  concluded  it  to  be  the  condi 
tion  of  mortal  life,  else  it  never  would  have  remained 
so  quiet.  Perhaps  it  had  been  quieted  with  a  sleep 
ing-potion.  The  two  young  women  were  not  negligent 
of  it;  but  passed  it  to  and  fro  between  them,  each 
willingly  putting  herself  to  inconvenience  for  the  sake 
of  tending  it.  But  I  really  feared  it  might  die  in 
some  kind  of  a  fit,  so  hot  was  the  theatre,  so  purple 
with  heat,  yet  strangely  quiet,  was  the  child.  I  was 


384  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1850 

glad  to  hear  it  cry  at  last  ;  but  it  did  not  cry  with  any 
great  rage  and  vigor,  as  it  should,  but  in  a  stupid 
kind  of  way.  Hereupon  the  smaller  of  the  two  girls, 
after  a  little  inefficacious  dandling,  at  once  settled  the 
question  of  maternity  by  nursing  her  baby.  Children 
must  be  hard  to  kill,  however  injudicious  the  treat 
ment.  The  two  girls  and  their  cavaliers  remained  till 
nearly  the  close  of  the  play.  I  should  like  well  to 
know  who  they  are,  —  of  what  condition  in  life,  and 
whether  reputable  as  members  of  the  class  to  which 
they  belong.  My  own  judgment  is  that  they  are  so. 
Throughout  the  evening,  drunken  young  sailors  kept 
stumbling  into  and  out  of  the  boxes,  calling  to  one  an 
other  from  different  parts  of  the  house,  shouting  to  the 
performers,  and  singing  the  burden  of  songs.  It  was 
a  scene  of  life  in  the  rough. 


May  14£A.  —  A  stable  opposite  the  house,  —  an  old 
wooden  construction,  low,  in  three  distinct  parts  ;  the 
centre  being  the  stable  proper,  where  the  horses  are 
kept,  and  with  a  chamber  over  it  for  the  hay.  On 
one  side  is  the  department  for  chaises  and  carriages  ; 
on  the  other,  the  little  office  where  the  books  are  kept. 
In  the  interior  region  of  the  stable  everything  is  dim 
and  undefined,  —  half  -traceable  outlines  of  stalls, 
sometimes  the  shadowy  aspect  of  a  horse.  Generally 
a  groom  is  dressing  a  horse  at  the  stable  door,  with  a 
care  and  accuracy  that  leave  no  part  of  the  animal  un- 
visited  by  the  currycomb  and  brush  ;  the  horse,  mean 
while,  evidently  enjoying  it,  but  sometimes,  when  the 
more  sensitive  parts  are  touched,  giving  a  half-playful 
kick  with  his  hind  legs,  and  a  little  neigh.  If  the 
men  bestowed  half  as  much  care  on  their  own  per 
sonal  cleanliness,  they  would  be  all  the  better  and 


1850.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  385 

healthier  men  therefor.  They  appear  to  be  busy  men, 
these  stablers,  yet  have  a  lounging  way  with  them, 
as  if  indolence  were  somehow  diffused  through  their 
natures.  The  apparent  head  of  the  establishment  is 
a  sensible,  thoughtful  -  looking,  large  -  featured,  aid 
homely  man,  past  the  middle  age,  clad  rather  shabbily 
In  gray,  stooping  somewhat,  and  without  any  smart 
ness  about  him.  There  is  a  groom,  who  seems  to  be  a 
very  comfortable  kind  of  personage,  —  a  man  of  forty- 
five  or  thereabouts  (R.  W.  Emerson  says  he  was  one 
of  his  schoolmates),  but  not  looking  so  old ;  corpulent, 
not  to  say  fat,  with  a  white  frock,  which  his  goodly 
bulk  almost  fills,  enveloping  him  from  neck  nearly  to 
ankles.  On  his  head  he  wears  a  cloth  cap  of  a  jockey 
shape  ;  his  pantaloons  are  turned  up  an  inch  or  two  at 
bottom,  and  he  wears  brogans  on  his  feet.  His  hair, 
as  may  be  seen  when  he  takes  off  his  cap  to  wipe  his 
brow,  is  black  and  in  perfect  preservation,  with  not 
exactly  a  curl,  yet  a  vivacious  and  elastic  kind  of  twist 
in  it.  His  face  is  fresh  -  colored,  comfortable,  suffi 
ciently  vivid  in  expression,  not  at  all  dimmed  by  his 
fleshly  exuberance,  because  the  man  possesses  vigor 
enough  to  carry  it  off.  His  bodily  health  seems  per 
fect  ;  so,  indeed,  does  his  moral  and  intellectual.  He 
is  very  active  and  assiduous  in  his  duties,  currycomb- 
ing  and  rubbing  down  the  horses  with  alacrity  and 
skill ;  and,  when  not  otherwise  occupied,  you  may  see 
him  talking  jovially  with  chance  acquaintances,  or  ob 
serving  what  is  going  forward  in  the  street.  If  a 
female  acquaintance  happens  to  pass,  he  touches  his 
jockey  cap,  and  bows,  accomplishing  this  courtesy  with 
a  certain  smartness  that  proves  him  a  man  of  the 
worldo  Whether  it  be  his  greater  readiness  to  talk, 
or  the  wisdom  of  what  he  says,  he  seems  usually  to  be 

VOL.    IX.  26 


386  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1850, 

the  centre  talker  of  the  group.  It  is  very  pleasant  to 
see  such  an  image  of  earthly  comfort  as  this.  A  fat 
man  who  feels  his  flesh  as  a  disease  and  encumbrance, 
and  on  whom  it  presses  so  as  to  make  him  melancholy 
with  dread  of  apoplexy,  and  who  moves  heavily  under 
the  burden  of  himself,  —  such  a  man  is  a  doleful  and 
disagreeable  object.  But  if  he  have  vivacity  enough 
to  pervade  all  his  earthiness,  and  bodily  force  enough 
to  move  lightly  under  it,  and  if  it  be  not  too  unmeas 
ured  to  have  a  trimness  and  briskness  in  it,  then  it  is 
good  and  wholesome  to  look  at  him. 

In  the  background  of  the  house,  a  cat,  occasionally 
stealing  along  on  the  roofs  of  the  low  out-houses  ;  de 
scending  a  flight  of  wooden  steps  into  the  brick  area  ; 
investigating  the  shed,  and  entering  all  dark  and  se 
cret  places  ;  cautious,  circumspect,  as  if  in  search  of 
something  ;  noiseless,  attentive  to  every  noise.  Moss 
grows  on  spots  of  the  roof ;  there  are  little  boxes  of 
earth  here  and  there,  with  plants  in  them.  The  grass- 
plots  appertaining  to  each  of  the  houses  whose  rears 
are  opposite  ours  (standing  in  Temple  Place)  are  per 
haps  ten  or  twelve  feet  broad,  and  three  times  as  long. 
Here  and  there  is  a  large,  painted  garden-pot,  half 
buried  in  earth.  Besides  the  large  trees  in  blossom, 
there  are  little  ones,  probably  of  last  year's  setting 
out.  Early  in  the  day  chambermaids  are  seen  hang 
ing  the  bedclothes  out  of  the  upper  windows ;  at  the 
window  of  the  basement  of  the  same  house,  I  see  a 
woman  ironing.  Were  I  a  solitary  prisoner,  I  should 
not  doubt  to  find  occupation  of  deep  interest  for  my 
whole  day  in  watching  only  one  of  the  houses.  One 
house  seems  to  be  quite  shut  up ;  all  the  blinds  in  the 
three  windows  of  each  of  the  four  stories  being  closed, 
although  in  the  roof -windows  of  the  attic  story  the  cur- 


(850.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS,  387 

tains  are  hung  carelessly  upward,  instead  of  being 
drawn.  I  think  the  house  is  empty,  perhaps  for  the 
summer.  The  visible  side  of  the  whole  row  of  houses 
is  now  in  the  shade,  —  they  looking  towards,  I  should 
say,  the  southwest.  Later  in  the  day,  they  are  wholly 
covered  with  sunshine,  and  continue  so  through  the 
afternoon ;  and  at  evening  the  sunshine  slowly  with 
draws  upward,  gleams  aslant  upon  the  windows, 
perches  on  the  chimneys,  and  so  disappears.  The  up 
per  part  of  the  spire  and  the  weathercock  of  the  Park 
Street  Church  appear  over  one  of  the  houses,  looking 
as  if  it  were  close  behind.  It  shows  the  wind  to  be 
east  now.  At  one  of  the  windows  of  the  third  story 
sits  a  woman  in  a  colored  dress,  diligently  sewing  on 
something  white.  She  sews,  not  like  a  lady,  but  with 
an  occupational  air.  Her  dress,  I  observe,  on  closer 
observation,  is  a  kind  of  loose  morning  sack,  with,  I 
think,  a  silky  gloss  on  it ;  and  she  seems  to  have  a  sil 
ver  comb  in  her  hair,  —  no,  this  latter  item  is  a  mis* 
take.  Sheltered  as  the  space  is  between  the  two  rows 
of  houses,  a  puff  of  the  east-wind  finds  its  way  in,  and 
shakes  off  some  of  the  withering  blossoms  from  the 
cherry-trees., 

Quiet  as  the  prospect  is,  there  is  a  continual  and 
near  thunder  of  wheels  proceeding  from  Washington 
Street.  In  a  building  not  far  off,  there  is  a  hall  for 
exhibitions  ;  and  sometimes,  in  the  evenings,  loud  mu 
sic  is  heard  from  it ;  or,  if  a  diorama  be  shown  (that 
of  Bunker  Hill,  for  instance,  or  the  burning  of  Mos 
cow),  an  immense  racket  of  imitative  cannon  and  mus 
ketry. 

May  16th.  —  It  has  been  an  easterly  rain  yesterday 
and  to-day,  with  occasional  lightings  up,  and  then  a 
heavy  downfall  of  the  gloom  again. 


888  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1850. 

Scenes  out  of  the  rear  windows,  —  the  glistening 
roof  of  the  opposite  houses ;  the  chimneys,  now  and 
then  choked  with  their  own  smoke,  which  a  blast 
drives  down  their  throats.  The  church -spire  has  a 
mist  about  it.  Once  this  morning  a  solitary  dove 
came  and  alighted  on  the  peak  of  an  attic  window,  and 
looked  down  into  the  areas,  remaining  in  this  position 
a  considerable  time.  Now  it  has  taken  a  flight,  and 
alighted  on  the  roof  of  this  house,  directly  over  the 
window  at  which  I  sit,  so  that  I  can  look  up  and  see 
its  head  and  beak,  and  the  tips  of  its  claws.  The 
roofs  of  the  low  out-houses  are  black  with  moisture ; 
the  gutters  are  full  of  water,  and  there  is  a  little  pud 
dle  where  there  is  a  place  for  it  in  the  hollow  of  a 
board.  On  the  grass-plot  are  strewn  the  fallen  blos 
soms  of  the  cherry-tree,  and  over  the  scene  broods  a 
parallelogram  of  sombre  sky.  Thus  it  will  be  all  day 
as  it  was  yesterday ;  and,  in  the  evening,  one  window 
after  another  will  be  lighted  up  in  the  drawing-rooms. 
Through  the  white  curtains  may  be  seen  the  gleam  of 
an  astral -lamp,  like  a  fixed  star.  In  the  basement 
rooms,  the  work  of  the  kitchen  going  forward ;  in  the 
upper  chambers,  here  and  there  a  light. 

In  a  bar-room,  a  large,  oval  basin  let  into  the  coun 
ter,  with  a  brass  tube  rising  from  the  centre,  out  of 
which  gushes  continually  a  miniature  fountain,  and 
descends  in  a  soft,  gentle,  never-ceasing  rain  into  the 
basin,  where  swim  a  company  of  gold-fishes.  Some 
of  them  gleam  brightly  in  their  golden  armor  ;  others 
have  a  dull  white  aspect,  going  through  some  process 
of  transformation.  One  would  think  that  the  atmos 
phere,  continually  filled  with  tobacco  -  smoke,  might 
impregnate  the  water  unpleasantly  for  the  scaly  peo 
ple  ;  but  then  it  is  continually  flowing  away  and  being 


1850.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  389 

renewed.  And  what  if  some  toper  should  be  seized 
with  the  freak  of  emptying  his  glass  of  gin  or  brandy 
into  the  basin,  —  would  the  fishes  die  or  merely  get 
jolly? 

I  saw,  for  a  wonder,  a  man  pretty  drunk  at  Par 
ker's  the  other  evening,  —  a  well-dressed  man,  of  not 
ungentlemanly  aspect.  He  talked  loudly  and  foolishly, 
but  in  good  phrases,  with  a  great  flow  of  language, 
and  he  was  no  otherwise  impertinent  than  in  address 
ing  his  talk  to  strangers.  Finally,  after  sitting  a  long 
time  staring  steadfastly  across  the  room  in  silence, 
he  arose,  and  staggered  away  as  best  he  might,  only 
showing  his  very  drunken  state  when  he  attempted  to 
walk. 

Old  acquaintances,  —  a  gentleman  whom  I  knew 
ten  years  ago,  brisk,  active,  vigorous,  with  a  kind  of 
fire  of  physical  well-being  and  cheerful  spirits  glow 
ing  through  him.  Now,  after  a  course,  I  presume,  of 
rather  free  living,  pale,  thin,  oldish,  with  a  grave  and 
care  or  pain  worn  brow,  —  yet  still  lively  and  cheerful 
in  his  accost,  though  with  something  invincibly  sad 
dened  in  his  tones.  Another,  formerly  commander  of 
a  revenue  vessel,  —  a  man  of  splendid  epaulets  and 
very  aristocratic  equipment  and  demeanor ;  now  out 
of  service  and  without  position,  and  changed  into  a 
brandy-burnt  and  rowdyish  sort  of  personage.  He 
seemed  as  if  he  might  still  be  a  gentleman  if  he 
would  ;  but  his  manners  show  a  desperate  state  of 
mind  by  their  familiarity,  recklessness,  the  lack  of  any 
hedge  of  reserve  about  himself,  while  still  he  is  evi 
dently  a  man  of  the  world,  accustomed  to  good  soci 
ety.  He  has  latterly,  I  think,  been  in  the  Russian 
service,  and  would  very  probably  turn  pirate  on  fair 
occasion. 


S90  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [185ft 

Lenox,  July  14^.  —  The  tops  of  the  chestnut-trees 
have  a  whitish  appearance,  they  being,  I  suppose,  in 
bloom.  Ked  raspberries  are  just  through  the  season. 

Language,  —  human  language,  —  after  all,  is  but 
little  better  than  the  croak  and  cackle  of  fowls  and 
other  utterances  of  brute  nature,  —  sometimes  not  so 
adequate. 

July  16  th.  —  The  tops  of  the  chestnut-trees  are  pe 
culiarly  rich,  as  if  a  more  luscious  sunshine  were  fall 
ing  on  them  than  anywhere  else.  "  Whitish,"  as 
above,  don't  express  it. 

The  queer  gestures  and  sounds  of  a  hen  looking 
about  for  a  place  to  deposit  her  egg  ;  her  self-impor 
tant  gait  ;  the  sideway  turn  of  her  head  and  cock  of 
her  eye,  as  she  pries  into  one  and  another  nook,  croak 
ing  all  the  while,  —  evidently  with  the  idea  that  the 
egg  in  question  is  the  most  important  thing  that  has 
been  brought  to  pass  since  the  world  began.  A  speck 
led  black  and  white  and  tufted  hen  of  ours  does  it 
to  most  ludicrous  perfection  ;  and  there  is  something 
laughably  womanish  in  it  too. 


July  25#A.  —  As  I  sit  in  my  study,  with  the  windows 
open,  the  occasional  incident  of  the  visit  of  some 
winged  creature,  —  wasp,  hornet,  or  bee,  —  entering 
out  of  the  warm,  sunny  atmosphere,  soaring  round  the 
room  in  large  sweeps,  then  buzzing  against  the  glass, 
as  not  satisfied  with  the  place,  and  desirous  of  getting 
out.  Finally,  the  joyous  uprising  curve  with  which, 
coming  to  the  open  part  of  the  window,  it  emerges 
into  the  cheerful  glow  of  the  outside. 


1850.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  391 

August  4th.  —  Dined  at  hotel  with  J.  T.  Fields  and 
wife.  Afternoon,  drove  with  them  to  Pittsfield  and 
called  on  Dr.  Holmes. 

August  5th.  —  Drove  with  Fields  and  his  wife  to 
Stockbridge,  being  thereto  invited  by  Mr.  Field  of 
Stockbridge,  in  order  to  ascend  Monument  Mountain. 
Found  at  Mr.  Field's  Dr.  Holmes  and  Mr.  Duyckinck 
of  New  York ;  also  Mr.  Cornelius  Matthews  and  Her 
man  Melville.  Ascended  the  mountain :  that  is  to 
say,  Mrs.  Fields  and  Miss  Jenny  Field,  Mr.  Field 
and  Mr.  Fields,  Dr.  Holmes,  Messrs.  Duyckinck,  Mat 
thews,  Melville,  Mr.  Henry  Sedgewick,  and  I,  and 
were  caught  in  a  shower.  Dined  at  Mr.  Field's.  Af 
ternoon,  under  guidance  of  J.  T.  Headley,  the  party 
scrambled  through  the  ice-glen. 

August  7th.  —  Messrs.  Duyckinck,  Matthews,  Mel 
ville,  and  Melville,  Junior,  called  in  the  forenoon. 
Gave  them  a  couple  of  bottles  of  Mr.  Mansfield's 
champagne,  and  walked  down  to  the  lake  with  them. 
At  twilight  Mr.  Edwin  P.  Whipple  and  wife  called. 

August  8th.  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  "VVhipple  took  tea 
with  us. 

August  V&th.  —  Seven  chickens  hatched.  J.  T. 
Headley  and  brother  called.  Eight  chickens. 

August  Vdth.  —  Monument  Mountain,  in  the  early 
sunshine ;  its  base  enveloped  in  mist,  parts  of  which 
are  floating  in  the  sky,  so  that  the  great  hill  looks 
really  as  if  it  were  founded  on  a  cloud.  Just  emerg 
ing  from  the  mist  is  seen  a  yellow  field  of  rye,  and!, 
above  that,  forest. 


392  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1850t 


August  21s£.  —  Eight  more  chickens  hatched.  As 
cended  a  mountain  with  my  wife  ;  a  beautiful,  mellowt 
autumnal  sunshine. 

August  24th.  —  In  the  afternoons,  nowadays,  this 
valley  in  which  I  dwell  seems  like  a  vast  basin  filled 
with  golden  sunshine  as  with  wine. 

August  31s£.  —  J.  R.  Lowell  called  in  the  evening. 

September  ~Lst.  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lowell  called  in  the 
forenoon,  on  their  way  to  Stockbridge  or  Lebanon,  to 
meet  Miss  Bremer. 

September  2d.  —  "  When  I  grow  up,"  quoth  J  -  , 
in  illustration  of  the  might  to  which  he  means  to  at 
tain,  —  "  when  I  grow  up,  I  shall  be  two  men." 

September  3c7.  —  Foliage  of  maples  begins  to  change. 
Julian,  after  picking  up  a  handful  of  autumnal  maple- 
leaves  the  other  day,  —  "  Look,  papa,  here  's  a  bunch 
of  fire  !  " 

September  7th.  —  In  a  wood,  a  heap  or  pile  of  logs 
and  sticks,  that  had  been  cut  for  firewood,  and  piled 
up  square,  in  order  to  be  carted  away  to  the  house 
when  convenience  served,  —  or,  rather,  to  be  sledded 
in  sleighing  time.  But  the  moss  had  accumulated  on 
them,  and  leaves  falling  over  them  from  year  to  year 
and  decaying,  a  kind  of  soil  had  quite  covered  them, 
although  the  softened  outline  of  the  woodpile  was  per 
ceptible  in  the  green  mound.  It  was  perhaps  fifty 
years  —  perhaps  more  —  since  the  woodman  had  cut 
and  piled  tho«e  logs  and  sticks,  intending  them  for  hia 


1850.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  39S 

winter  fires.  But  he  probably  needs  no  fire  now. 
There  was  something  strangely  interesting  in  this  sim 
ple  circumstance.  Imagine  the  long  -  dead  woodman, 
and  his  long  -dead  wife  and  family,  and  the  old  man 
who  was  a  little  child  when  the  wood  was  cut,  coming 
back  from  their  graves,  and  trying  to  make  a  fire  with 
this  mossy  fuel. 

September  Vdth.  —  Lying  by  the  lake  yesterday  af 
ternoon,  with  my  eyes  shut,  while  the  waves  and  sun 
shine  were  playing  together  on  the  water,  the  quick 
glimmer  of  the  wavelets  was  perceptible  through  my 
closed  eyelids. 

October  \$th.  —  A  windy  day,  with  wind  north 
west,  cool,  with  a  prevalence  of  dull  gray  clouds  over 
the  sky,  but  with  brief,  quick  glimpses  of  sunshine. 

The  foliage  having  its  autumn  hues,  Monument 
Mountain  looks  like  a  headless  sphinx,  wrapped  in  a 
rich  Persian  shawl.  Yesterday,  through  a  diffused 
mist,  with  the  sun  shining  on  it,  it  had  the  aspect  of 
burnished  copper.  The  sun  -  gleams  on  the  hills  are 
peculiarly  magnificent  just  in  these  days. 

One  of  the  children,  drawing  a  cow  on  the  black 
board,  says,  "  I  '11  kick  this  leg  out  a  little  more,"  —  a 
very  happy  energy  of  expression,  completely  identify 
ing  herself  with  the  cow;  or  perhaps,  as  the  cow's 
creator,  conscious  of  full  power  over  its  movements. 


October  14^A.  —  The  brilliancy  of  the  foliage  has 
passed  its  acme  ;  and  indeed  it  has  not  been  so  mag 
nificent  this  season  as  in  some  others,  owing  to  the 
gradual  approaches  of  cooler  weather,  and  there  hav- 


394  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1850. 

ing  been  slight  frosts  instead  of  severe  ones.    There  is 
still  a  shaggy  richness  on  the  hill-sides. 

October  ~LQth.  —  A  morning  mist,  filling  up  the 
whole  length  and  breadth  of  the  valley  betwixt  my 
house  and  Monument  Mountain,  the  summit  of  the 
mountain  emerging.  The  mist  reaches  almost  to  my 
window,  so  dense  as  to  conceal  everything,  except  that 
near  its  hither  boundary  a  few  ruddy  or  yellow  tree- 
tops  appear,  glorified  by  the  early  sunshine,  as  is  like 
wise  the  whole  mist-cloud. 

There  is  a  glen  between  this  house  and  the  lake, 
through  which  winds  a  little  brook  with  pools  and  tiny 
waterfalls  over  the  great  roots  of  trees.  The  glen  is 
deep  and  narrow,  and  filled  with  trees ;  so  that,  in  the 
summer,  it  is  all  a  dense  shadow  of  obscurity.  Now, 
the  foliage  of  the  trees  being  almost  entirely  a  golden 
yellow,  instead  of  being  full  of  shadow,  the  glen  is  ab 
solutely  full  of  sunshine,  and  its  depths  are  more  brill 
iant  than  the  open  plain  or  the  mountain-tops.  The 
trees  are  sunshine,  and,  many  of  the  golden  leaves  be 
ing  freshly  fallen,  the  glen  is  strewn  with  sunshine, 
amid  which  winds  and  gurgles  the  bright,  dark  little 
brook. 

December  1st.  —  I  saw  a  dandelion  in  bloom  near 
the  lake. 

December  19^.  —  If  the  world  were  crumbled  to 
the  finest  dust,  and  scattered  through  the  universe, 
there  would  not  be  an  atom  of  the  dust  for  each  star. 

"  Generosity  is  the  flower  of  justice." 


{850.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  395 

The  print  in  blood  of  a  naked  foot  to  be  traced 
through  the  street  of  a  town. 

Sketch  of  a  personage  with  the  malignity  of  a  witch, 
and  doing  the  mischief  attributed  to  one,  • —  but  by 
natural  means ;  breaking  off  love  -  affairs,  teaching 
children  vices,  ruining  men  of  wealth,  etc. 

Ladislaus,  King  of  Naples,  besieging  the  city  of 
Florence,  agreed  to  show  mercy,  provided  the  inhabi 
tants  would  deliver  to  him  a  certain  virgin  of  famous 
beauty,  the  daughter  of  a  physician  of  the  city.  When 
she  was  sent  to  the  king,  every  one  contributing  some 
thing  to  adorn  her  in  the  richest  manner,  her  father 
gave  her  a  perfumed  handkerchief ,  at  that  time  a  uni 
versal  decoration,  richly  wrought.  This  handkerchief 
was  poisoned  with  his  utmost  art,  .  .  .  and  they  pres 
ently  died  in  one  another's  arms. 

Of  a  bitter  satirist,  —  of  Swift,  for  instance,  —  it 
might  be  said,  that  the  person  or  thing  on  which 
his  satire  fell  shrivelled  up  as  if  the  Devil  had  spit 
on  it. 

The  Fount  of  Tears,  —  a  traveller  to  discover  it,  — 
and  other  similar  localities. 

Benvenuto  Cellini  saw  a  Salamander  in  the  house 
hold  fire.  It  was  shown  him  by  his  father,  in  child 
hood. 

For  the  virtuoso's  collection,  —  the  pen  with  which 
Faust  signed  away  his  salvation,  with  a  drop  of  blood 
dried  in  it. 


896  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1850. 

An  article  on  newspaper  advertisements,  —  a  coun* 
try  newspaper,  methinks,  rather  than  a  city  one. 

An  eating-house,  where  all  the  dishes  served  out, 
even  to  the  bread  and  salt,  shall  be  poisoned  with  the 
adulterations  that  are  said  to  be  practised.  Perhaps 
Death  himself  might  be  the  cook. 

Personify  the  century,  —  talk  of  its  present  middle 
age,  of  its  youth,  and  its  adventures  and  prospects. 

An  uneducated  countryman,  supposing  he  had  a 
live  frog  in  his  stomach,  applied  himself  to  the  study 
of  medicine  in  order  to  find  a  cure  for  this  disease ; 
and  he  became  a  profound  physician.  Thus  misfor 
tune,  physical  or  moral,  may  be  the  means  of  educat 
ing  and  elevating  us. 

"  Mather's  Manuductio  ad  Ministerium,"  —  or, 
"  Directions  for  a  Candidate  "  for  the  ministry,  —  with 
the  autographs  of  four  successive  clergymen  in  it,  all 
of  them,  at  one  time  or  another,  residents  of  the  Old 
Manse,  —  Daniel  Bliss,  1734  ;  William  Emerson, 
1770  ;  Ezra  Ripley,  1781 ;  and  Samuel  Ripley,  son  of 
the  preceding.  The  book,  according  to  a  Latin  mem 
orandum,  was  sold  to  Daniel  Bliss  by  Daniel  Bre- 
mer,  who,  I  suppose,  was  another  student  of  divinity. 
Printed  at  Boston  "  for  Thomas  Hancock,  and  sold  at 
his  shop  in  Ann  St.  near  the  Draw  Bridge,  1726. '? 
William  Emerson  was  son-in-law  of  Daniel  Blisst 
Ezra  Ripley  married  the  widow  of  said  William  Eni 
erson,  and  Samuel  Ripley  was  their  son. 

Mrs.  Prescott  has  an  ox  whose  visage  bears  a  strong 
resemblance  to  Daniel  Webster,  —  a  majestic  brute. 


1850.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  397 

The  spells  of  witches  have  the  power  of  producing 
meats  and  viands  that  have  the  appearance  of  a  sump 
tuous  feast,  which  the  Devil  furnishes.  But  a  Divine 
Providence  seldom  permits  the  meat  to  be  good,  but  it 
has  generally  some  bad  taste  or  smell,  —  mostly  wants 
salt,  —  and  the  feast  is  often  without  bread. 

An  article  on  cemeteries,  with  fantastic  ideas  of 
monuments  ;  for  instance,  a  sundial ;  —  a  large,  wide 
carved  stone  chair,  with  some  such  motto  as  "  Rest 
and  Think,"  and  others,  facetious  or  serious. 

"  Mamma,  I  see  a  part  of  your  smile,"  —  a  child  to 
her  mother,  whose  mouth  was  partly  covered  by  her 
hand. 

"  The  syrup  of  my  bosom,"  —  an  improvisation  of  a 
little  girl,  addressed  to  an  imaginary  child. 

"The  wind-turn,"  "the  lightning-catch,"  a  child's 
phrases  for  weathercock  and  lightning-rod. 

"  Where  's  the  man-mountain  of  these  Liliputs  ? " 
cried  a  little  boy,  as  he  looked  at  a  small  engraving  of 
the  Greeks  getting  into  the  wooden  horse. 

When  the  sun  shines  brightly  on  the  new  snow,  we 
discover  ranges  of  hills,  miles  away  towards  the  south 
which  we  have  never  seen  before. 

To  have  the  North  Pole  for  a  fishing-pole,  and  the 
Equinoctial  Line  for  a  fishing-line. 

If  we  consider  the  lives  of  the  lower  animals,  we 


898  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1851. 

shall  see  in  them  a  close  parallelism  to  those  of  mor 
tals,  —  toil,  struggle,  danger,  privation,  mingled  with 
glimpses  of  peace  and  ease ;  enmity,  affection,  a  con 
tinual  hope  of  bettering  themselves,  although  their  ob 
jects  lie  at  less  distance  before  them  than  ours  can  do, 
Thus,  no  argument  for  the  imperfect  character  of  our 
existence  and  its  delusory  promises,  and  its  apparent 
injustice,  can  be  drawn  in  reference  to  our  immortal 
ity,  without,  in  a  degree,  being  applicable  to  our  brute 
brethren. 

Lenox,  February  12th,  1851.  —  A  walk  across  the 
lake  with  Una.  A  heavy  rain,  some  days  ago,  has 
melted  a  good  deal  of  the  snow  on  the  intervening 
descent  between  our  house  and  the  lake ;  but  many 
drifts,  depths,  and  levels  yet  remain ;  and  there  is  a 
frozen  crust,  sufficient  to  bear  a  man's  weight,  and 
very  slippery.  Adown  the  slopes  there  are  tiny  rivu 
lets,  which  exist  only  for  the  winter.  Bare,  brown 
spaces  of  grass  here  and  there,  but  still  so  infrequent 
as  only  to  diversify  the  scene  a  little.  In  the  woods, 
rocks  emerging,  and,  where  there  is  a  slope  immedi 
ately  towards  the  lake,  the  snow  is  pretty  much  gone, 
and  we  see  partridge-berries  frozen,  and  outer  shells 
of  walnuts,  and  chestnut  -  burrs,  heaped  or  scattered 
among  the  roots  of  the  trees.  The  walnut-husks  mark 
the  place  where  the  boys,  after  nutting,  sat  down  to 
clear  the  walnuts  of  their  outer  shell.  The  various 
species  of  pine  look  exceedingly  brown  just  now,  — 
less  beautiful  than  those  trees  which  shed  their  leaves. 
An  oak-tree,  with  almost  all  its  brown  foliage  still 
rustling  on  it.  We  clamber  down  the  bank,  and  step 
upon  the  frozen  lake.  It  was  snow-covered  for  a  con 
siderable  time ;  but  the  rain  overspread  it  with  a  sui> 


1851.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  399 

face  of  water,  or  imperfectly  melted  snow,  which  is 
now  hard  frozen  again ;  and  the  thermometer  having 
been  frequently  below  zero,  I  suppose  the  ice  may  be 
four  or  five  feet  thick.  Frequently  there  are  great 
cracks  across  it,  caused,  I  suppose,  by  the  air  beneath, 
and  giving  an  idea  of  greater  firmness  than  if  there 
were  no  cracks ;  round  holes,  which  have  been  hewn  in 
the  marble  pavement  by  fishermen,  and  are  now  frozen 
over  again,  looking  darker  than  the  rest  of  the  sur 
face  ;  spaces  where  the  snow  was  more  imperfectly  dis 
solved  than  elsewhere ;  little  crackling  spots,  where  a 
thin  surface  of  ice,  over  the  real  mass,  crumples  be 
neath  one's  foot ;  the  track  of  a  line  of  footsteps,  most 
of  them  vaguely  formed,  but  some  quite  perfectly, 
where  a  person  passed  across  the  lake  while  its  sur 
face  was  in  a  state  of  slush,  but  which  are  now  as 
hard  as  adamant,  and  remind  one  of  the  traces  discov 
ered  by  geologists  in  rocks  that  hardened  thousands 
of  ages  ago.  It  seems  as  if  the  person  passed  when 
the  lake  was  in  an  intermediate  state  between  ice  and 
water.  In  one  spot  some  pine  boughs,  which  some 
body  had  cut  and  heaped  there  for  an  unknown  pur 
pose.  In  the  centre  of  the  lake,  we  see  the  surround 
ing  hills  in  a  new  attitude,  this  being  a  basin  in  the 
midst  of  them.  Where  they  are  covered  with  wood, 
the  aspect  is  gray  or  black  ;  then  there  are  bare  slopes 
of  unbroken  snow,  the  outlines  and  indentations  being 
much  more  hardly  and  firmly  defined  than  in  summer. 
We  went  southward  across  the  lake,  directly  towards 
Monument  Mountain,  which  reposes,  as  I  said,  like 
a  headless  sphinx.  Its  prominences,  projections,  and 
roughnesses  are  very  evident ;  and  it  does  not  present 
a  smooth  and  placid  front,  as  when  the  grass  is  green 
and  the  trees  in  leaf.  At  one  end,  too,  we  are  sens* 


400  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [18£1 

ble  of  precipitous  descents,  black  and  shaggy  with  the 
forest  that  is  likely  always  to  grow  there ;  and,  in  one 
streak,  a  headlong  sweep  downward  of  snow.  We 
just  set  our  feet  on  the  farther  shore,  and  then  im 
mediately  returned,  facing  the  northwest-wind,  which 
blew  very  sharply  against  us. 

After  landing,  we  came  homeward,  tracing  up  the 
little  brook  so  far  as  it  lay  in  our  course.  It  was  con 
siderably  swollen,  and  rushed  fleetly  on  its  course  be- 
hveen  overhanging  banks  of  snow  and  ice,  from  which 
depended  adamantine  icicles.  The  little  waterfalla 
with  which  we  had  impeded  it  in  the  summer  and  au 
tumn  could  do  no  more  than  form  a  large  ripple,  so 
much  greater  was  the  volume  of  water.  In  some 
places  the  crust  of  frozen  snow  made  a  bridge  quite 
over  the  brook ;  so  that  you  only  knew  it  was  there  by 
its  brawling  sound  beneath. 

The  sunsets  of  winter  are  incomparably  splendid, 
and  when  the  ground  is  covered  with  snow,  no  brill 
iancy  of  tint  expressible  by  words  can  come  within  an 
infinite  distance  of  the  effect.  Our  southern  view  at 
that  time,  with  the  clouds  and  atmospherical  hues,  is 
quite  indescribable  and  unimaginable ;  and  the  various 
distances  of  the  hills  which  lie  between  us  and  the  re 
mote  dome  of  Taconic  are  brought  out  with  an  accu 
racy  unattainable  in  summer.  The  transparency  of  the 
air  at  this  season  has  the  effect  of  a  telescope  in  bring- 
big  objects  apparently  near,  while  it  leaves  the  scene 
all  its  breadth.  The  sunset  sky,  amidst  its  splendor, 
has  a  softness  and  delicacy  that  impart  themselves  to 
a  white  marble  world. 

Pebruary,  18th.  —  A  walk,  yesterday  afternoon,  with 
the  children  ;  a  bright,  and  rather  cold  day,  breezy 


1851.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  401 

from  the  north  and  westward.  There  has  been  a  good 
deal  of  soaking  rain  lately,  and  it  has,  in  great  meas 
ure,  cleared  hills  and  plains  of  snow,  only  it  may  be 
seen  lying  in  spots,  and  011  each  side  of  stone-walls,  in 
a  pretty  broad  streak.  The  grass  is  brown  and  with 
ered,  and  yet,  scattered  all  amongst  it,  on  close  inspec 
tion,  one  finds  a  greenness,  —  little  shrubs  that  have 
kept  green  under  all  the  severity  of  winter,  and  seem 
to  need  no  change  to  fit  them  for  midsummer.  In  the 
woods  we  see  stones  covered  with  moss  that  retains 
likewise  a  most  lively  green.  Where  the  trees  are 
dense,  the  snow  still  lies  under  them.  On  the  sides 
of  the  mountains,  some  miles  off,  the  black  pines  and 
the  white  snow  among  them  together  produce  a  gray 
effect.  The  little  streams  are  most  interesting  objects 
at  this  time ;  some  that  have  an  existence  only  at  this 
season,  —  Mississippi s  of  the  moment,  —  yet  glide 
and  tumble  along  as  if  they  were  perennial.  The  fa 
miliar  ones  seem  strange  by  their  breadth  and  volume ; 
their  little  waterfalls  set  off  by  glaciers  on  a  small 
scale.  The  sun  has  by  this  time  force  enough  to  make 
sheltered  nooks  in  the  angles  of  woods,  or  on  banks, 
warm  and  comfortable.  The  lake  is  still  of  adaman 
tine  substance,  but  all  round  the  borders  there  is  a 
watery  margin,  altogether  strewed  or  covered  with 
thin  and  broken  ice,  so  that  I  could  not  venture  on  it 
with  the  children.  A  chickadee  was  calling  in  the 
woods  yesterday,  —  the  only  small  bird  I  have  taken 
note  of  yet ;  but  crows  have  been  cawing  in  the  woods 
for  a  week  past,  though  not  in  very  great  numbers, 

February  22fZ.  —  For  the  last  two  or  three  days 
there  has  been  a  warm,  soaking,  southeasterly  rain, 
with  a  spongy  moisture  diffused  through  the  atmos- 

VOL.  ix.  26 


402  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1851, 

phere.  The  snow  has  disappeared,  except  in  spots 
which  are  the  ruins  of  high  drifts,  and  patches  far  up 
on  the  hill-sides.  The  mists  rest  all  day  long  on  the 
brows  of  the  hills  that  shut  in  our  valley.  The  road 
over  which  I  walk  every  day  to  and  from  the  village 
is  in  the  worst  state  of  mud  and  mire,  soft,  slippery, 
nasty  to  tread  upon  ;  while  the  grass  beside  it  is 
scarcely  better,  being  so  oozy  and  so  overflowed  with 
little  streams,  and  sometimes  an  absolute  bog.  The 
rivulets  race  along  the  road,  adown  the  hills  ;  and 
wherever  there  is  a  permanent  brooklet,  however  gen 
erally  insignificant,  it  is  now  swollen  into  importance, 
and  the  rumble  and  tumble  of  its  waterfalls  may  be 
heard  a  long  way  off.  The  general  effect  of  the  day 
and  scenery  is  black,  black,  black.  The  streams  are  all 
as  turbid  as  mud-puddles. 

Imitators  of  original  authors  might  be  compared  to 
plaster  casts  of  marble  statues,  or  the  imitative  book 
fco  a  cast  of  the  original  marble. 

March  11th.  —  After  the  ground  had  been  com 
pletely  freed  of  snow,  there  has  been  a  snow-storm  for 
the  two  days  preceding  yesterday,  which  made  the 
earth  all  white  again.  This  morning  at  sunrise,  the 
thermometer  stood  at  about  18°  above  zero.  Monu 
ment  Mountain  stands  out  in  great  prominence,  with 
its  dark  forest-covered  sides,  and  here  and  there  a 
large,  white  patch,  indicating  tillage  or  pasture  land  ; 
but  making  a  generally  dark  contrast  with  the  white 
expanse  of  the  frozen  and  snow -covered  lake  at  its 
base,  and  the  more  undulating  white  of  the  surround 
ing  country.  Yesterday,  under  the  sunshine  of  mid 
day,  and  with  many  voluminous  clouds  hanging  over 


1851.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  403 

it,  and  a  mist  of  wintry  warmth  in  the  air,  it  had  a 
kind  of  visionary  aspect,  although  still  it  was  brought 
out  in  striking  relief.  But  though  one  could  see  all 
its  bulgings,  round  swells,  and  precipitous  abrupt 
nesses,  it  looked  as  much  akin  to  the  clouds  as  to  solid 
earth  and  rock  substance.  In  the  early  sunshine  of 
the  morning,  the  atmosphere  being  very  clear,  I  saw 
the  dome  of  Taconic  with  more  distinctness  than  ever 
before,  the  snow-patches,  and  brown,  uncovered  soil  011 
its  round  head,  being  fully  visible.  Generally  it  is 
but  a  dark  blue  unvaried  mountain-top.  All  the  rug- 
gedness  of  the  intervening  hill-country  was  likewise 
effectively  brought  out.  There  seems  to  be  a  sort  of 
illuminating  quality  in  new  snow,  which  it  loses  after 
being  exposed  for  a  day  or  two  to  the  sun  and  atmos 
phere. 

For  a  child's  story,  —  the  voyage  of  a  little  boat 
made  of  a  chip,  with  a  birch-bark  sail,  down  a  river. 

March  31s£.  —  A  walk  with  the  children  yesterday 
forenoon.  We  went  through  the  wood,  where  we 
found  partridge-berries,  half  hidden  among  the  dry, 
fallen  leaves  ;  thence  down  to  the  brook.  This  little 
brook  has  not  cleansed  itself  from  the  disarray  of  the 
past  autumn  and  winter,  and  is  much  embarrassed 
and  choked  up  with  brown  leaves,  twigs,  and  bits  of 
branches.  It  rushes  along  merrily  and  rapidly,  gur 
gling  cheerfully,  and  tumbling  over  the  impediments 
of  stones  with  which  the  children  and  I  made  little 
waterfalls  last  year.  At  many  spots,  there  are  small 
basins  or  pools  of  calmer  and  smoother  depth,  —  three 
feet,  perhaps,  in  diameter,  and  a  foot  or  two  deep,  —  in 
which  little  fish  are  already  sporting  about ;  all  else- 


404  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1851. 

where  is  tumble  and  gurgle  and  mimic  turbulence.  I 
sat  on  the  withered  leaves  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  while 
the  children  played,  a  little  brook  being  the  most  fas 
cinating  plaything  that  a  child  can  have.  Una  jumped 
to  and  fro  across  it ;  Julian  stood  beside  a  pool  fish 
ing  with  a  stick,  without  hook  or  line,  and  wondering 
that  he  caught  nothing.  Then  he  made  new  water 
falls  with  mighty  labor,  pulling  big  stones  out  of  the 
earth,  and  flinging  them  into  the  current.  Then  they 
sent  branches  of  trees,  or  the  outer  shells  of  walnuts, 
sailing  down  the  stream,  and  watched  their  passages 
through  the  intricacies  of  the  way,  —  how  they  were 
hurried  over  in  a  cascade,  hurried  dizzily  round  in  a 
whirlpool,  or  brought  quite  to  a  stand-still  amongst 
the  collected  rubbish.  At  last  Julian  tumbled  into  the 
brook,  and  was  wetted  through  and  through,  so  that 
\ve  were  obliged  to  come  home  ;  he  squelching  along 
all  the  way,  with  his  india-rubber  shoes  full  of  water. 

There  are  still  patches  of  snow  on  the  hills  ;  also 
in  the  woods,  especially  on  the  northern  margins. 
The  lake  is  not  yet  what  we  may  call  thawed  out,  al 
though  there  is  a  large  space  of  blue  water,  and  the 
ice  is  separated  from  the  shore  everywhere,  and  is  soft, 
water-soaked,  and  crumbly.  On  favorable  slopes  and 
exposures,  the  earth  begins  to  look  green  ;  and  almost 
anywhere,  if  one  looks  closely,  one  sees  the  greenness 
of  the  grass,  or  of  little  herbage,  amidst  the  brown. 
Under  the  nut-trees  are  scattered  some  of  the  nuts  of 
last  year  ;  the  walnuts  have  lost  their  virtue,  the  chest 
nuts  do  not  seem  to  have  much  taste,  but  the  butter« 
nuts  are  in  no  manner  deteriorated.  The  warmth  of 
these  days  has  a  mistiness,  and  in  many  respects  re« 
sembles  the  Indian  summer,  and  is  not  at  all  provO' 
cative  of  physical  exertion.  Nevertheless,  the  general 


1851.J  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  405 

impression  is  of  life,  not  death.     One  feels  that  a  new 
season  has  begun. 

Wednesday,  April  9th.  —  There  was  a  great  rain 
yesterday,  —  wind  from  the  southeast,  and  the  last 
visible  vestige  of  snow  disappeared.  It  was  a  small 
patch  near  the  summit  of  Bald  Mountain,  just  on  th<. 
upper  verge  of  a  grove  of  trees.  I  saw  a  slight  rein 
nant  of  it  yesterday  afternoon,  but  to-day  it  is  quite 
gone.  The  grass  comes  up  along  the  roadside  and  on 
favorable  exposures,  with  a  sort  of  green  blush.  Frogs 
have  been  melodious  for  a  fortnight,  and  the  birds  sing 
pleasantly. 

April  20th.  —  The  children  found  Houstonias  more 
than  a  week  ago.  There  have  been  easterly  wind, 
continual  cloudiness,  and  occasional  rain,  for  a  week, 
This  morning  opened  with  a  great  snow-storm  from  the 
northeast,  one  of  the  most  earnest  snow-storms  of  the 
year,  though  rather  more  moist  than  in  midwinter. 
The  earth  is  entirely  covered.  Now,  as  the  day  ad 
vances  towards  noon,  it  shows  some  symptoms  of  turn 
ing  to  rain. 

April  28th.  —  For  a  week  we  have  found  the  trail 
ing  arbutus  pretty  abundant  in  the  woods.  A  day  or 
two  since,  Una  found  a  few  purple  violets,  and  yester 
day  a  dandelion  in  bloom.  The  fragrance  of  the  arbu* 
tus  is  spicy  and  exquisite, 

May  16th.  —  In  our  walks  now,  the  children  and  I 
find  blue,  white,  and  golden  violets,  the  former,  espe 
cially,  of  great  size  and  richness.  Houstonias  are 
abundant,  blue-whitening  some  of  the  pastures*  The,y 


406  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1851 

are  a  very  sociable  little  flower,  and  dwell  close  t<v 
gether  in  communities,  —  sometimes  covering  a  space 
no  larger  than  the  palm  of  the  hand,  but  keeping  one 
another  in  cheerful  heart  and  life,  —  sometimes  they 
occupy  a  much  larger  space.  Lobelia,  a  pink  flower 
growing  in  the  woods.  Columbines,  of  a  pale  red,  be 
cause  they  have  lacked  sun,  growing  in  rough  and 
rocky  places  on  banks  in  the  copses,  precipitating  to* 
wards  the  lake.  The  leaves  of  the  trees  are  not  yet 
out,  but  are  so  apparent  that  the  woods  are  getting 
a  very  decided  shadow.  Water-weeds  on  the  edge  of 
the  lake,  of  a  deep  green,  with  roots  that  seem  to  have 
nothing  to  do  with  earth,  but  with  water  only. 

May  23d.  —  I  think  the  face  of  nature  can  never 
look  more  beautiful  than  now,  with  this  so  fresh  and 
youthful  green,  —  the  trees  not  being  fully  in  leaf,  yet 
enough  so  to  give  airy  shade  to  the  woods.  The  sun 
shine  fills  them  with  green  light.  Monument  Moun 
tain  and  its  brethren  are  green,  and  the  lightness  of 
the  tint  takes  away  something  from  their  massiveness 
and  ponderosity,  and  they  respond  with  livelier  effect  to 
the  shine  and  shade  of  the  sky.  Each  tree  now  within 
sight  stands  out  in  its  own  individuality  of  hue.  This 
is  a  very  windy  day,  and  the  light  shifts  with  magica) 
alternation.  In  a  walk  to  the  lake  just  now  with  tht 
children,  we  found  abundance  of  flowers,  —  wild  ge 
ranium,  violets  of  all  families,  red  columbines,  ano 
many  others  known  and  unknown,  besides  innumera 
ble  blossoms  of  the  wild  strawberry,  which  has  been  ir 
bloom  for  the  past  fortnight.  The  Houstonias  seem 
quite  to  overspread  some  pastures,  when  viewed  from 
a  distance.  Not  merely  the  flowers,  but  the  various 
shrubs  which  one  sees,  —  seated,  for  instance,  on  the 


1851.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  407 

decayed  trunk  of  a  tree,  —  are  well  worth  looking  at, 
such  a  variety  and  such  enjoyment  they  have  of  their 
aew  growth.  Amid  these  fresh  creations,  we  see  others 
that  have  already  run  their  course,  and  have  done  with 
warmth  and  sunshine,  —  the  hoary  periwigs,  I  mean, 
of  dandelions  gone  to  seed. 

August  1th.  —  Fourier  states  that,  in  the  progress 
of  the  world,  the  ocean  is  to  lose  its  saltness,  and  ac 
quire  the  taste  of  a  peculiarly  flavored  lemonade. 


October  13^A.  —  How  pleasant  it  is  to  see  a  human 
countenance  which  cannot  be  insincere,  —  in  reference 
to  baby's  smile. 

The  best  of  us  being  unfit  to  die,  what  an  inexpres 
sible  absurdity  to  put  the  worst  to  death  ! 

"  Is  that  a  burden  of  sunshine  on  Apollo's  back  ?  " 
asked  one  of  the  children,  —  of  the  chlamys  on  our 
Apollo  Belvedere. 

October  21st  —  Going*  to  the  village  yesterday  af 
ternoon,  I  saw  the  face  of  a  beautiful  woman,  gazing 
at  me  from  a  cloud.  It  was  the  full  face,  not  the  bust. 
It  had  a  sort  of  mantle  on  the  head,  and  a  pleasant 
expression  of  countenance.  The  vision  lasted  while  I 
took  a  few  steps,  and  then  vanished.  I  never  before 
saw  nearly  so  distinct  a  cloud-picture,  or  rather  sculp 
ture  ;  for  it  came  out  in  alto-rilievo  on  the  body  of  the 
cloud. 

October  21th.  —  The  ground  this  morning  is  white 
with  a  thin  covering  of  snow.  The  foliage  has  still 


408  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1851 

some  variety  of  hue.  The  dome  of  Taconic  looks 
dark,  and  seems  to  have  no  snow  on  it,  though  I  don't 
understand  how  that  can  be.  I  saw,  a  moment  ago, 
on  the  lake,  a  very  singular  spectacle.  There  is  a  high 
northwest-wind  ruffling  the  lake's  surface,  and  making 
it  blue,  lead-colored,  or  bright,  in  stripes  or  at  inter 
vals  ;  but  what  I  saw  was  a  boiling  up  of  foam,  whicl 
began  at  the  right  bank  of  the  lake,  and  passed  quite 
across  it ;  and  the  mist  flew  before  it,  like  the  cloud 
out  of  a  steam-engine.  A  fierce  and  narrow  blast  of 
wind  must  have  ploughed  the  water  in  a  straight  line, 
from  side  to  side  of  the  lake.  As  fast  as  it  went  on, 
the  foam  subsided  behind  it,  so  that  it  looked  some 
what  like  a  sea-serpent,  or  other  monster,  swimming 
very  rapidly. 

October  29^.  —  On  a  walk  to  Scott's  pond,  with 
Ellery  Channing,  we  found  a  wild  strawberry  in  the 
woods,  not  quite  ripe,  but  beginning  to  redden.  For 
a  week  or  two,  the  cider-mills  have  been  grinding  ap 
ples.  Immense  heaps  of  apples  lie  piled  near  them, 
and  the  creaking  of  the  press  is  heard  as  the  horse 
treads  on.  Farmers  are  repairing  cider-barrels ;  and 
the  wayside  brook  is  made  to  pour  itself  into  the 
bunghole  of  a  barrel,  in  order  to  cleanse  it  for  the 
new  cider. 

November  3d.  —  The  face  of  the  country  is  dreary 
now  in  a  cloudy  day  like  the  present.  The  woods  on 
the  hill-sides  look  almost  black,  and  the  cleared  spaces 
a  kind  of  gray  brown. 

Taconic,  this  morning  (4th),  was  a  black  purple,  as 
dense  and  distinct  as  Monument  Mountain  itself.  I 
hear  the  creaking  of  the  cider-press ;  the  patient  horse 


1852.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  409 

going  round  and  round,  perhaps  thirsty,  to  make  the 
Hquor  which  he  never  can  enjoy. 

We  left  Lenox  Friday  morning,  November  21, 
1851,  in  a  storm  of  snow  and  sleet,  and  took  the  cars 
at  Pittsfield,  and  arrived  at  West  Newton  that  even 
ing. 

Happiness  in  this  world,  when  it  comes,  comes  inci 
dentally.  Make  it  the  object  of  pursuit,  and  it  leads 
us  a  wild-goose  chase,  and  is  never  attained.  Follow 
some  other  object,  and  very  possibly  we  may  find  that 
we  have  caught  happiness  without  dreaming  of  it  ;  but 
likely  enough  it  is  gone  the  moment  we  say  to  our 
selves,  "  Here  it  is  !  "  like  the  chest  of  gold  that  treas 
ure-seekers  find. 


West  Newton,  April  13^A,  1852.  —  One  of  the 
severest  snow-storms  of  the  winter. 

April  30th.  —  Wrote  the  last  page  (199th  MS.)  of 
"  The  Blithedale  Komance." 

May  1st.  —  Wrote  Preface.  Afterwards  modified 
the  conclusion,  and  lengthened  it  to  201  pages.  First 
proof-sheets,  May  14. 

Concord,  Mass.,  August  20th.  —  A  piece  of  land 
contiguous  to  and  connected  with  a  handsome  estate, 
to  the  adornment  and  good  appearance  of  which  it 
was  essential.  But  the  owner  of  the  strip  of  land  was 
at  variance  with  the  owner  of  the  estate,  so  he  always 
refused  to  sell  it  at  any  price,  but  let  it  lie  there,  wild 
and  ragged,  in  front  of  and  near  the  mansion-house, 


410  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1852. 

When  he  dies,  the  owner  of  the  estate,  who  has  re 
joiced  at  the  approach  of  the  event  all  through  his 
enemy's  illness,  hopes  at  last  to  buy  it ;  but,  to  his  in 
finite  discomfiture,  the  enemy  enjoined  in  his  will  that 
his  body  should  be  buried  in  the  centre  of  this  strip 
of  land.  All  sorts  of  ugly  weeds  grow  most  luxuri 
antly  out  of  the  grave  in  poisonous  rankness. 

The  Isles  of  Shoals,  Monday,  August  3Qth. — 
Left  Concord  at  a  quarter  of  nine  A.  M.  Friday,  Sep 
tember  3,  set  sail  at  about  half  past  ten  to  the  Isles 
of  Shoals.  The  passengers  were  an  old  master  of  a 
vessel ;  a  young,  rather  genteel  man  from  Greenland, 
N.  H. ;  two  Yankees  from  Hamilton  and  Danvers ; 
and  a  country  trader  (I  should  judge)  from  some 
inland  town  of  New  Hampshire.  The  old  sea-cap- 
tain,  preparatory  to  sailing,  bought  a  bunch  of  cigars 
(they  cost  ten  cents),  and  occasionally  puffed  one. 
The  two  Yankees  had  brought  guns  on  board,  and 
asked  questions  about  the  fishing  of  the  Shoals.  They 
were  young  men,  brothers,  the  youngest  a  shopkeeper 
in  Danvers,  the  other  a  farmer,  I  imagine,  at  Hamil 
ton,  and  both  specimens  of  the  least  polished  kind 
of  Yankee,  and  therefore  proper  to  those  localities. 
They  were  at  first  full  of  questions,  and  greatly  in 
terested  in  whatever  was  going  forward ;  but  anon 
the  shopkeeper  began  to  grow,  first  a  little,  then 
very  sick,  till  he  lay  along  the  boat,  longing,  as  he 
afterwards  said,  for  a  little  fresh  water  to  be  drowned 
in.  His  brother  attended  him  in  a  very  kindly  way, 
but  became  sick  himself  before  he  reached  the  end  of 
the  voyage. 

The  young  Greeiilander  talked  politics,  or  rather 
discussed  the  personal  character  of  Pierce.  The 


1*52.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  411 

Hampshire  trader  said  not  a  word,  or  hardly  one,  all 
the  way.  A  Portsmouth  youth  (whom  I  forgot  to 
mention)  sat  in  the  stern  of  the  boat,  looking  very 
white.  The  skipper  of  the  boat  is  a  Norwegian,  a 
good-natured  fellow,  not  particularly  intelligent,  and 
speaking  in  a  dialect  somewhat  like  Irish.  He  had 
a  man  with  him,  a  silent  and  rather  sulky  fellow5 
who,  at  the  captain's  bidding,  grimly  made  himself 
useful. 

The  wind  not  being  favorable,  we  had  to  make  sev 
eral  tacks  before  reaching  the  islands,  where  we  ar 
rived  at  about  two  o'clock.  We  landed  at  Appledore, 
on  which  is  Laighton's  Hotel,  —  a  large  building  with 
a  piazza  or  promenade  before  it,  about  an  hundred 
and  twenty  feet  in  length,  or  more,  —  yes,  it  must  be 
more.  It  is  an  edifice  with  a  centre  and  two  wings, 
the  central  part  upwards  of  seventy  feet.  At  one  end 
of  the  promenade  is  a  covered  veranda,  thirty  or  forty 
feet  square,  so  situated  that  the  breeze  draws  across 
it  from  the  sea  on  one  side  of  the  island  to  the  sea  on 
the  other,  and  it  is  the  breeziest  and  comfortablest 
place  in  the  world  on  a  hot  day.  There  are  two 
swings  beneath  it,  and  here  one  may  sit  or  walk,  and 
enjoy  life,  while  all  other  mortals  are  suffering. 

As  I  entered  the  door  of  the  hotel,  there  met  me  a 
short,  corpulent,  round,  and  full-faced  man,  rather 
elderly,  if  not  old.  He  was  a  little  lame.  He  ad 
dressed  me  in  a  hearty,  hospitable  tone,  and,  judg 
ing  that  it  must  be  my  landlord,  I  delivered  a  letter 
of  introduction  from  Pierce.  Of  course  it  was  fully 
efficient  in  obtaining  the  best  accommodations  that 
were  to  be  had.  I  found  that  we  were  expected,  a 
man  having  brought  the  news  of  our  intention  the 
day  before.  Here  ensued  great  inquiries  after  the 


412  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1852 

General,  and  wherefore  he  had  not  come.  I  was 
looked  at  with  considerable  curiosity  on  my  own  ac 
count,  especially  by  the  ladies,  of  whom  there  were 
several,  agreeable  and  pretty  enough.  There  were 
four  or  five  gentlemen,  most  of  whom  had  not  much 
that  was  noteworthy. 

After  dinner,  which  was  good  and  abundant,  though 
somewhat  rude  in  its  style,  I  was  introduced  by  Mr 
Laighton  to  Mr.  Thaxter,  his  son-in-law,  and  Mi'0 
Weiss,  a  clergyman  of  New  Bedford,  who  is  staying 
here  for  his  health.  They  showed  me  some  of  the  re 
markable  features  of  the  island,  such  as  a  deep  chasm 
in  the  cliffs  of  the  shore,  towards  the  southwest ;  also 
a  monument  of  rude  stones,  on  the  highest  point  of 
the  island,  said  to  have  been  erected  by  Captain  John 
Smith  before  the  settlement  at  Plymouth.  The  tra 
dition  is  just  as  good  as  truth.  Also,  some  ancient 
cellars,  with  thistles  and  other  weeds  growing  in  them, 
and  old  fragmentary  bricks  scattered  about.  The  date 
of  these  habitations  is  not  known  ;  but  they  may  well 
be  the  remains  of  the  settlement  that  Cotton  Mather 
speaks  about ;  or  perhaps  one  of  them  was  the  house 
where  Sir  William  Pepperell  was  born,  and  where  he 
went  when  he  and  somebody  else  set  up  a  stick,  and 
travelled  to  seek  their  fortunes  in  the  direction  in 
which  it  fell. 

In  the  evening,  the  company  at  the  hotel  made  up 
two  whist  parties,  at  one  of  which  I  sat  down,  —  my 
partner  being  an  agreeable  young  lady  from  Ports 
mouth.  We  played  till  I,  at  least,  was  quite  weary. 
It  had  been  the  beautifullest  of  weather  all  day,  very 
hot  on  the  mainland,  but  a  delicious  climate  under 
our  veranda. 


1852.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  413 

Saturday,  September  4:th.  — Another  beautiful  day, 
rather  cooler  than  the  preceding,  but  not  too  cool.  I 
can  bear  this  coolness  better  than  that  of  the  interior. 
In  the  forenoon,  I  took  passage  for  Star  Island,  in  a 
boat  that  crosses  daily  whenever  there  are  passengers. 
My  companions  were  the  two  Yankees,  who  had  quite 
recovered  from  yesterday's  sickness,  and  were  in  the 
best  of  spirits  and  the  utmost  activity  of  mind  of 
which  they  were  capable.  Never  was  there  such  a 
string  of  questions  as  they  directed  to  the  boatman, 
—  questions  that  seemed  to  have  no  gist,  so  far  as  re 
lated  to  any  use  that  could  be  made  of  the  answers. 
They  appear  to  be  very  good  young  men,  however, 
well-meaning,  and  with  manners  not  disagreeable,  be 
cause  their  hearts  are  not  amiss.  Star  Island  is  less 
than  a  mile  from  Appledore.  It  is  the  most  populous 
island  of  the  group,  —  has  been,  for  three  or  four 
years,  an  incorporated  township,  and  sends  a  repre 
sentative  to  the  New  Hampshire  legislature.  The 
number  of  voters  is  variously  represented  as  from 
eighteen  to  twenty-eight.  The  inhabitants  are  all,  I 
presume,  fishermen.  Their  houses  stand  in  pretty 
close  neighborhood  to  one  another,  scattered  about 
without  the  slightest  regularity  or  pretence  of  a  street, 
there  being  no  wheel-carriages  on  the  island.  Some 
of  the  houses  are  very  comfortable  two-story  dwell 
ings.  I  saw  two  or  three,  I  think,  with  flowers. 
There  are  also  one  or  two  trees  on  the  island.  There 
is  a  strong  odor  of  fishiness,  and  the  little  cove  is  full 
of  mackerel-boats,  and  other  small  craft  for  fishing, 
in  some  of  which  little  boys  of  no  growth  at  all  were 
paddling  about.  Nearly  in  the  centre  of  this  insular 
metropolis  is  a  two -story  house,  with  a  flag -staff  in 
the  yard.  This  is  the  hotel 


414  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1852. 

On  the  highest  point  of  Star  Island  stands  the 
church,  —  a  small,  wooden  structure ;  and,  sitting  in 
its  shadow,  I  found  a  red-baize-shirted  fisherman,  who 
seemed  quite  willing  to  converse.  He  said  that  there 
was  a  minister  here,  who  was  also  the  schoolmaster ; 
but  that  he  did  not  keep  school  just  now,  because  his 
wife  was  very  much  out  of  health.  The  school-house 
stood  but  a  little  way  from  the  meeting-house,  and 
near  it  was  the  minister's  dwelling  ;  and  by  and  by  I 
had  a  glimpse  of  the  good  man  himself,  in  his  suit  of 
black,  which  looked  in  very  decent  condition  at  the 
distance  from  which  I  viewed  it.  His  clerical  air  was 
quite  distinguishable,  and  it  was  rather  curious  to  see 
it,  when  everybody  else  wore  red-baize  shirts  and  fish 
ing-boots,  and  looked  of  the  scaly  genus.  He  did  not 
approach  me,  and  I  saw  him  no  nearer.  I  soon  grew 
weary  of  Gosport,  and  was  glad  to  reembark,  al 
though  I  intend  to  revisit  the  island  with  Mr.  Thax- 
ter,  and  see  more  of  its  peculiarities  and  inhabitants. 
I  saw  one  old  witch-looking  woman  creeping  about 
with  a  cane,  and  stooping  down,  seemingly  to  gather 
herbs.  On  mentioning  her  to  Mr.  Thaxter,  after  my 
return,  he  said  that  it  was  probably  "  the  bearded 
woman."  I  did  not  observe  her  beard  ;  but  very 
likely  she  may  have  had  one. 

The  larger  part  of  the  company  at  the  hotel  re 
turned  to  the  mainland  to-day.  There  remained  be 
hind,  however,  a  Mr.  T from  Newburyport,  — -  a 

man  of  natural  refinement,  and  a  taste  for  reading 
that  seems  to  point  towards  the  writings  of  Emerson, 
Thoreau,  and  men  of  that  class.  I  have  had  a  good 
deal  of  talk  with  him,  and  at  first  doubted  whether  he 
might  not  be  a  clergyman  ;  but  Mr.  Thaxter  tells  me 
that  he  has  made  his  own  way  in  the  world,  —  was 


1852.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  415 

once  a  sailor  before  the  mast,  and  is  now  engaged  in 
mercantile  pursuits.  He  looks  like  nothing  of  this 
kind,  being  tall  and  slender,  with  very  quiet  manners, 
not  beautiful,  though  pleasing  from  the  refinement 
that  they  indicate.  He  has  rather  a  precise  and  care 
ful  pronunciation,  but  yet  a  natural  way  of  talking. 

In  the  afternoon  I  walked  round  a  portion  of  the  isl 
and  that  I  had  not  previously  visited,  and  in  the  even 
ing  went  with  Mr.  Titcomb  to  Mr.  Thaxter's  to  drink 
apple  -  toddy.  We  found  Mrs.  Thaxter  sitting  in  a 
neat  little  parlor,  very  simply  furnished,  but  in  good 
taste.  She  is  not  now,  I  believe,  more  than  eighteen 
years  old,  very  pretty,  and  with  the  manners  of  a  lady, 
—  not  prim  and  precise,  but  with  enough  of  freedom 
and  ease.  The  books  on  the  table  were  "  Pre-Rapha- 
elitism,"  a  tract  on  spiritual  mediums,  etc.  There  were 
several  shelves  of  books  on  one  side  of  the  room,  and 
engravings  on  the  walls.  Mr.  Weiss  was  there,  and  I 
do  not  know  but  he  is  an  inmate  of  Mr.  Thaxter's. 
By  and  by  came  in  Mr.  Thaxter's  brother,  with  a 
young  lady  whose  position  I  do  not  know,  —  either  a 
sister  or  the  brother's  wife.  Anon,  too,  came  in  the 
apple-toddy,  a  very  rich  and  spicy  compound  ;  after 
which  we  had  some  glees  and  negro  melodies,  in  which 
Mr.  Thaxter  sang  a  noble  bass,  and  Mrs.  Thaxter 
sang  like  a  bird,  and  Mr.  Weiss  sang,  I  suppose, 
tenor,  and  the  brother  took  some  other  part,  and  all 
were  very  mirthful  and  jolly.  At  about  ten  o'clock 
Mr.  Titcomb  and  myself  took  leave,  and  emerging 
into  the  open  air,  out  of  that  room  of  song,  and  pretty 
youthfulness  of  woman,  and  gay  young  men,  there 
was  the  sky,  and  the  three-quarters  waning  moon,  and 
the  old  sea  moaning  all  round  about  the  island. 


416  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1852 

Sunday,  September  5th. — To-day  I  have  done  littl 
or  nothing  except  to  roam  along  the  shore  of  the  is! 
and,  and  to  sit  under  the  piazza,  talking  with  Mi 
Laighton  or  some  of  his  half-dozen  guests ;  and  abou 
an  hour  before  dinner  I  came  up  to  my  room,  an< 
took  a  brief  nap.  Since  dinner  I  have  been  writing 
the  foregoing  journal.  I  observe  that  the  Fanny  Ells 
ler,  our  passenger  and  mail  boat,  has  arrived  fron 
Portsmouth,  and  now  lies  in  a  little  cove,  moored  t 
the  rocky  shore,  with  a  flag  flying  at  her  main-masl 
We  have  been  watching  her  for  some  hours,  but  sh 
stopped  to  fish,  and  then  went  to  some  other  island 
before  putting  in  here.  I  must  go  and  see  what  new 
she  has  brought. 

"  What  did  you  fire  at?  "  asked  one  of  the  Yankee 
just  now  of  a  boy  who  had  been  firing  a  gun.  "Notl 
ing,"  said  the  boy.  "  Did  you  hit  it  ?  "  rejoined  th 
Yankee, 

The  farmer  is  of  a  much  ruder  and  rougher  moul< 
than  his  brother,  —  heavier  in  frame  and  mind,  an< 
far  less  cultivated.  It  was  on  this  account,  probably 
that  he  labored  as  a  farmer,  instead  of  setting  up  i 
shop.  When  it  is  warm,  as  yesterday,  he  takes  of 
his  coat,  and,  not  minding  whether  or  no  his  shirt 
sleeves  be  soiled,  goes  in  this  guise  to  meals  o 
wherever  else,  —  not  resuming  his  coat  as  long  as  hi 
is  more  comfortable  without  it.  His  shoulders  hav< 
a  stoop,  and  altogether  his  air  is  that  of  a  farmer  ii 
repose.  His  brother  is  handsome,  and  might  havi 
quite  the  aspect  of  a  smart,  comely  young  man,  if  wel 
dressed. 

This  island  is  said  to  be  haunted  by  a  spectre  callec 
"  Old  Bab."  He  was  one  of  Captain  Kidd's  men,  anc 
was  slaip  for  the  protection  of  the  treasure.  Mr 


1852.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  417 

Laighton  said  that,  before  he  built  his  house,  nothing 
would  have  induced  the  inhabitant  of  another  island 
to  come  to  this  after  nightfall.  The  ghost  especially 
haunts  the  space  between  the  hotel  and  the  cove  in 
front.  There  has,  in  times  past,  been  great  search  for 
the  treasure. 

Mr.  Thaxter  tells  me  that  the  women  on  the  island 
are  very  timid  as  to  venturing  on  the  sea,  —  more  so 
than  the  women  of  the  mainland,  —  and  that  they  are 
easily  frightened  about  their  husbands.  Very  few  ac 
cidents  happen  to  the  boats  or  men,  —  none,  I  think, 
since  Mr.  Thaxter  has  been  here.  They  are  not  an 
enterprising  set  of  people,  never  liking  to  make  long 
voyages.  Sometimes  one  of  them  will  ship  on  a  voy 
age  to  the  West  Indies,  but  generally  only  on  coast 
wise  trips,  or  fishing  or  mackerel  voyages.  They  have 
a  very  strong  local  attachment,  and  return  to  die. 
They  are  now  generally  temperate,  formerly  very 
much  the  contrary. 

September  6th.  —  A  large  part  of  the  guests  took 
their  departure  after  an  early  breakfast  this  morning, 
including  Mr.  Titcomb,  Mr.  Weiss,  the  two  Yankees, 
and  Mr.  Thaxter,  —  who,  however,  went  as  skipper 
or  supercargo,  and  will  return  with  the  boat.  I  have 
been  fishing  for  cunners  off  the  rocks,  but  with  intol 
erably  poor  success.  There  is  nothing  so  dispiriting 
as  poor  fishing,  and  I  spend  most  of  the  time  with  my 
head  on  my  hands,  looking  at  the  sea  breaking  against 
the  rocks,  shagged  around  the  bases  with  sea-weed.  It 
is  a  sunny  forenoon,  with  a  cool  breeze  from  the  south 
west.  The  mackerel  craft  are  in  the  offing.  Mr. 
Laighton  says  that  the  Spy  (the  boat  which  went  to 
the  mainland  this  morning)  is  now  on  her  return  with 

VOL.  ix.  27 


418  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1852, 

all  her  colors  set;  and  he  thinks  that  Pierce  is  on 
board,  he  having  sent  Mr.  Thaxter  to  invite  him  to 
come  in  this  boat. 

Pierce  arrived  before  dinner  in  the  Spy,  accompanied 
by  Judge  Upham  and  his  brother  and  their  wives,  his 
own  wife,  Mr.  Furness,  and  three  young  ladies.  After 
dinner  some  of  the  gentlemen  crossed  over  to  Gosport, 
where  we  visited  the  old  graveyard,  in  which  were 
monuments  to  Rev.  Mr.  Tucke  (died  1773,  after  forty 
years'  settlement)  and  to  another  and  later  minister  of 
the  island.  They  were  of  red  freestone,  lying  horizon 
tally  on  piles  of  the  granite  fragments,  such  as  are 
scattered  all  about.  There  were  other  graves,  marked 
by  the  rudest  shapes  of  stones  at  head  and  foot.  And 
so  many  stones  protruded  from  the  ground,  that  it 
was  wonderful  how  space  and  depth  enough  was  found 
between  them  to  cover  the  dead.  We  went  to  the 
houye  of  the  town  clerk  of  Gosport  (a  drunken  fisher 
man,  Joe  Caswell  by  name),  and  there  found  the  town 
records,  commencing  in  1732,  in  a  beautiful  style  of 
penmanship.  They  are  imperfect,  the  township  hav 
ing  been  broken  up,  probably  at  the  time  of  the  Rev* 
olution.  Caswell,  being  very  drunk,  immediately  put 
in  a  petition  to  Pierce  to  build  a  sea -mole  for  the 
protection  of  the  navigation  of  the  island  when  he 
should  be  President.  He  was  dressed  in  the  ordinary 
fisherman's  style,  —  red  -  baize  shirt,  trousers  tucked 
into  large  boots,  which,  as  he  had  just  come  ashore, 
were  wet  with  salt  water. 

He  led  us  down  to  the  shore  of  the  island,  towards 
the  east,  and  showed  us  Betty  Moody's  Hole.  This 
Betty  Moody  was  a  woman  of  the  island  in  old  times. 
The  Indians  came  off  on  a  depredating  excursion,  and 
she  fled  from  them  with  a  child,  and  hid  herself  in 


1852.J  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  419 

this  hole,  which  is  formed  by  several  great  rocks  be 
ing  lodged  so  as  to  cover  one  of  the  fissures  which  are 
common  along  these  shores.  I  crept  into  the  hole, 
which  is  somewhat  difficult  of  access,  long,  low,  and 
narrow,  and  might  well  enough  be  a  hiding-place. 
The  child,  or  children,  began  to  cry ;  and  Betty,  fear 
ful  of  discovery,  murdered  them  to  save  herself.  Joe 
Caswell  did  not  tell  the  latter  part  of  the  story,  but 
Mr.  Thaxter  did. 

Not  far  from  the  spot  there  is  a  point  of  rocks  ex 
tending  out  farther  into  the  ocean  than  the  rest  of  the 
island.  Some  four  or  five  years  ago  there  was  a  young 
woman  residing  at  Gosport  in  the  capacity  of  school 
teacher.  She  was  of  a  romantic  turn,  and  used  to  go 
and  sit  on  this  point  of  rock  to  view  the  waves.  One 
day,  when  the  wind  was  high,  and  the  surf  raging 
against  the  rocks,  a  great  wave  struck  her,  as  she  sat 
on  the  edge,  and  seemed  to  deprive  her  of  sense  ;  an. 
other  wave,  or  the  reflex  of  the  same  one,  carried  her 
off  into  the  sea,  and  she  was  seen  no  more.  This  hap 
pened,  I  think,  in  1846. 

Passing  a  rock  near  the  centre  of  the  island,  which 
rose  from  the  soil  about  breast-high,  and  appeared  to 
have  been  split  asunder,  with  an  incalculably  aged 
and  moss-grown  fissure,  the  surfaces  of  which,  how 
ever,  precisely  suited  each  other,  Mr.  Hatch  men 
tioned  that  there  was  an  idea  among  the  people,  with 
regard  to  rocks  thus  split,  that  they  were  rent  asunder 
at  the  time  of  the  Crucifixion.  Judge  Upham  ob 
served  that  this  superstition  was  common  in  all  parts 
of  the  country. 

Mr.  Hatch  said  that  he  was  professionally  consulted 
the  other  day,  by  a  man  who  had  been  digging  for 
buried  treasure  at  Dover  Point,  up  the  Piscataqua 


420  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1852 

River ;  and,  while  he  and  his  companions  were  thus 
engaged,  the  owner  of  the  land  came  upon  them,  and 
compelled  Hatch's  client  to  give  him  a  note  for  a  sum 
of  money.  The  object  was  to  inquire  whether  this 
note  was  obligatory.  Hatch  says  that  there  are  a 
hundred  people  now  resident  in  Portsmouth,  who,  at 
one  time  or  another,  have  dug  for  treasure.  The  pro 
cess  is,  in  the  first  place,  to  find  out  the  site  of  the 
treasure  by  the  divining-rod.  A  circle  is  then  de 
scribed  with  the  steel  rod  about  the  spot,  and  a  man 
walks  around  within  its  verge,  reading  the  Bible,  to 
keep  off  the  evil  spirit  while  his  companions  dig.  If 
a  word  is  spoken,  the  whole  business  is  a  failure. 
Once,  the  person  who  told  him  the  story  reached  the 
lid  of  the  chest,  so  that  the  spades  plainly  scraped 
upon  it,  when  one  of  the  men  spoke,  and  the  chest  im 
mediately  moved  sideways  into  the  earth.  Another 
time,  when  he  was  reading  the  Bible  within  the  circle, 
a  creature  like  a  white  horse,  but  immoderately  large, 
came  from  a  distance  towards  the  circle,  looked  at 
him,  and  then  began  to  graze  about  the  spot.  He  saw 
the  motion  of  the  jaws,  but  heard  no  sound  of  champ 
ing.  His  companions  saw  the  gigantic  horse  pre 
cisely  as  he  did,  only  to  them  it  appeared  bay  instead 
of  white. 

The  islanders  stared  with  great  curiosity  at  Pierce. 
One  pretty  young  woman  appeared  inclined  to  engross 
him  entirely  to  herself. 

There  is  a  bowling-alley  on  the  island,  at  which 
some  of  the  young  fishermen  were  rolling. 

September  1th.  —  ...  I  have  made  no  exploration 
to-day,  except  a  walk  with  the  guests  in  the  morning, 
but  have  lounged  about  the  piazza  and  veranda.  It 


1852.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  42.* 

has  been  a  calm,  warm,  sunny  day,  the  sea  slumbering 
against  the  shores,  and  now  and  then  breaking  into 
white  foam. 

The  surface  of  the  island  is  plentifully  overgrown 
with  whortleberry  and  bayberry  bushes.  The  sheep 
cut  down  the  former,  so  that  few  berries  are  produced ; 
the  latter  gives  a  pleasant  fragrance  when  pressed  in 
the  hand.  The  island  is  one  great  ledge  of  rock,  four 
hundred  acres  in  extent,  with  a  little  soil  thrown  scan 
tily  over  it ;  but  the  bare  rock  everywhere  emerging, 
not  only  in  points,  but  still  more  in  flat  surfaces.  The 
only  trees,  I  think,  are  two  that  Mr.  Laighton  has 
been  trying  to  raise  in  front  of  the  hotel,  the  taller  of 
which  looks  scarcely  so  much  as  ten  feet  high.  It  is 
now  about  sunset,  and  the  Fanny,  with  the  mail,  is 
just  arrived  at  the  moorings.  So  still  is  it,  that  the 
sounds  on  board  (as  of  throwing  oars  into  a  small 
boat)  are  distinctly  heard,  though  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
off.  She  has  the  Stars  and  Stripes  flying  at  the  main 
mast.  There  appear  to  be  no  passengers. 

The  only  reptile  on  the  island  is  a  very  vivid  and 
beautiful  green  snake,  which  is  exceedingly  abundant. 
Yesterday,  while  catching  grasshoppers  for  fish-bait,  I 
nearly  griped  one  in  my  hand ;  indeed,  I  rather  think 
I  did  gripe  it.  The  snake  was  as  much  startled  as 
myself,  and,  in  its  fright,  stood  an  instant  on  its  tail, 
before  it  recovered  presence  of  mind  to  glide  away. 
These  snakes  are  quite  harmless. 

September  8th.  —  Last  evening  we  could  hear  the 
roaring  of  the  beaches  at  Hampton  and  Rye,  nine 
miles  off.  The  surf  likewise  swelled  against  the 
rocky  shores  of  the  island,  though  there  was  little 
or  no  wind,  and,  except  for  the  swell,  the  surface  was 


422  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1852. 

smooth.  The  sheep  bleated  loudly ;  and  all  these  to 
kens,  according  to  Mr.  Laighton,  foreboded  a  storm 
to  windward.  This  morning,  nevertheless,  there  were 
no  further  signs  of  it ;  it  is  sunny  and  calm,  or  only 
the  slightest  breeze  from  the  westward ;  a  haze  sleep 
ing  along  the  shore,  betokening  a  warm  day ;  the  sur 
face  of  the  sea  streaked  with  smoothness,  and  gentle 
ruffles  of  wind.  It  has  been  the  hottest  day  that  I 
have  known  here,  and  probably  one  of  the  hottest  of 
the  season  ashore ;  and  the  land  is  now  imperceptible 
in  the  haze. 

Smith's  monument  is  about  seven  feet  high,  and 
probably  ten  or  twelve  in  diameter  at  its  base.  It  is 
a  cairn,  or  mere  heap  of  stones,  thrown  together  as 
they  came  to  hand,  though  with  some  selection  of  large 
and  flat  ones  towards  the  base,  and  with  smaller  ones 
thrown  in.  At  the  foundation,  there  are  large  rocks, 
naturally  imbedded  in  the  earth.  I  see  no  reason  to 
disbelieve  that  a  part  of  this  monument  may  have 
been  erected  by  Captain  Smith,  although  subsequent 
visitors  may  have  added  to  it.  Laighton  says  it  is 
known  to  have  stood  upwards  of  a  hundred  years.  It 
is  a  work  of  considerable  labor,  and  would  more  likely 
have  been  erected  by  one  who  supposed  himself  the 
first  discoverer  of  the  island  than  by  anybody  after 
wards  for  mere  amusement.  I  observed  in  some 
places,  towards  the  base,  that  the  lichens  had  grown 
from  one  stone  to  another ;  and  there  is  nothing  in 
the  appearance  of  the  monument  that  controverts  the 
supposition  of  its  antiquity.  It  is  an  irregular  circle, 
somewhat  decreasing  towards  the  top.  Few  of  the 
stones,  except  at  the  base,  are  bigger  than  a  man  could 
easily  lift,  —  many  of  them  are  not  more  than  a  foot 
across.  It  stands  towards  the  southern  part  of  the 


1852.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  423 

island  ;  and  all  the  other  islands  are  visible  from  it,  — 
Smutty  Nose,  Star  Island,  and  White  Island, — -on 
which  is  the  light-house, — much  of  Laighton's  island 
(the  proper  name  of  which  is  Hog,  though  latterly 
called  Appledore),  and  Duck  Island,  which  looks  like 
a  mere  reef  of  rocks,  and  about  a  mile  farther  into  the 
ocean,  easterly  of  Hog  Island. 

Laighton's  Hotel,  together  with  the  house  in  which 
his  son-in-law  resides,  which  was  likewise  built  by 
Laighton,  and  stands  about  fifty  yards  from  the  hotel, 
occupies  the  middle  of  a  shallow  valley,  which  passes 
through  the  island  from  east  to  west.  Looking  from 
the  veranda,  you  have  the  ocean  opening  towards  the 
east,  and  the  bay  towards  Eye  Beach  and  Portsmouth 
on  the  west.  In  the  same  storm  that  overthrew  Mi- 
not's  Light,  a  year  or  two  ago,  a  great  wave  passed 
entirely  through  this  valley ;  and  Laighton  describes 
it,  when  it  came  in  from  the  sea,  as  toppling  over  to 
the  height  of  the  cupola  of  his  hotel.  It  roared  and 
whitened  through,  from  sea  to  sea,  twenty  feet  abreast, 
rolling  along  huge  rocks  in  its  passage.  It  passed  be 
neath  his  veranda,  which  stands  on  posts,  and  proba 
bly  filled  the  valley  completely.  Would  I  had  been 
here  to  see ! 

The  day  has  been  exceedingly  hot.  Since  dinner, 
the  Spy  has  arrived  from  Portsmouth,  with  a  party  of 
half  a  dozen  or  more  men  and  women  and  children, 
apparently  from  the  interior  of  New  Hampshire.  I 
am  rather  sorry  to  receive  these  strangers  into  the 
quiet  life  that  we  are  leading  here  ;  for  we  had  grown 
quite  to  feel  ourselves  at  home,  and  the  two  young 
ladies,  Mr.  Thaxter,  his  wife  and  sister,  and  myself, 
met  at  meal-times  like  one  family.  The  young  ladies 
gathered  shells,  arranged  them,  laughed  gently,  sang, 


424  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1852 

and  did  other  pretty  things  in  a  young-lady-like  way. 
These  new-comers  are  people  of  uncouth  voices  and 
loud  laughter,  and  behave  themselves  as  if  they  were 
trying  to  turn  their  expedition  to  as  much  account  as 
possible  in  the  way  of  enjoyment. 

John's  boat,  the  regular  passenger-boat,  is  now  com* 
ing  in,  and  probably  brings  the  mail.  I 

In  the  afternoon,  while  some  of  the  new-comers 
were  fishing  off  the  rocks,  west  of  the  hotel,  a  shark 
came  close  in  shore.  Hearing  their  outcries,  I  looked 
out  of  my  chamber  window,  and  saw  the  dorsal  fin  and 
the  fluke  of  his  tail  stuck  up  out  of  the  water,  as  he 
moved  to  and  fro.  He  must  have  been  eight  or  ten 
feet  long.  He  had  probably  followed  the  small  fish 
into  the  bay,  and  got  bewildered,  and,  at  one  time,  he 
was  almost  aground. 

Oscar,  Mr.  Laighton's  son,  ran  down  with  a  gun, 
and  fired  at  the  shark,  which  was  then  not  more  than 
ten  yards  from  the  shore.  He  aimed,  according  to 
his  father's  directions,  just  below  the  junction  of  the 
dorsal  fin  with  the  body ;  but  the  gun  was  loaded  only 
with  shot,  and  seemed  to  produce  no  effect.  Oscar 
had  another  shot  at  him  afterwards  ;  the  shark  floun 
dered  a  little  in  the  water,  but  finally  got  off  and 
disappeared,  probably  without  very  serious  damage. 
He  came  so  near  the  shore  that  he  might  have  been 
touched  with  a  boat-hook. 

September  $th. — Mr.  Thaxter  rowed  me  this  morn 
ing,  in  his  dory,  to  White  Island,  on  which  is  the 
light-house.  There  was  scarcely  a  breath  of  air,  and 
a  perfectly  calm  sea ;  an  intensely  hot  sunshine,  with 
a  little  haze,  so  that  the  horizon  was  indistinct.  Here 
and  there  sail-boats  sleeping  on  the  water,  or  moving 


1852.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  425 

almost  imperceptibly  over  it.  The  liglit-liouse  island 
would  be  difficult  of  access  in  a  rough  sea,  the  shore 
being  so  rocky.  On  landing,  we  found  the  keeper 
peeling  his  harvest  of  onions,  which  he  had  gathered 
prematurely,  because  the  insects  were  eating  them. 
His  little  patch  of  garden  seemed  to  be  a  strange 
kind  of  soil,  as  like  marine  mud  as  anything ;  but  he 
had  a  fair  crop  of  marrow  squashes,  though  injured, 
as  he  said,  by  the  last  storm  ;  and  there  were  cab 
bages  and  a  few  turnips.  I  recollect  no  other  garden 
vegetables.  The  grass  grows  pretty  luxuriantly,  and 
looked  very  green  where  there  was  any  soil ;  but  he 
kept  no  cow,  nor  even  a  pig  nor  a  hen.  His  house 
stands  close  by  the  garden,  —  a  small  stone  building, 
with  peaked  roof,  and  whitewashed.  The  light-house 
stands  on  a  ledge  of  rock,  with  a  gulley  between,  and 
there  is  a  long  covered  way,  triangular  in  shape,  con 
necting  his  residence  with  it.  We  ascended  into  the 
lantern,  which  is  eighty-seven  feet  high.  It  is  a  re 
volving  light,  with  several  great  illuminators  of  copper 
silvered,  and  colored  lamp  -  glasses.  Looking  down 
ward,  we  had  the  island  displayed  as  on  a  chart,  with 
its  little  bays,  its  isthmus  of  shingly  beach  connecting 
two  parts  of  the  island,  and  overflowed  at  high  tide  ; 
its  sunken  rocks  about  it,  indicated  by  the  swell,  or 
slightly  breaking  surf.  The  keeper  of  the  light-house 
was  formerly  a  writing-master.  He  has  a  sneaking 
kind  of  look,  and  does  not  bear  a  very  high  character 
among  his  neighbors.  Since  he  kept  the  light,  he  has 
lost  two  wives,  —  the  first  a  young  creature  whom  he 
used  to  leave  alone  upon  this  desolate  rock,  and  the 
gloom  and  terror  of  the  situation  were  probably  the 
cause  of  her  death.  The  second  wife,  experiencing 
the  same  kind  of  treatment,  ran  away  from  him,  and 


426  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1852. 

returned  to  her  friends.  He  pretends  to  be  religious, 
but  drinks.  About  a  year  ago  he  attempted  to  row 
out  alone  from  Portsmouth.  There  was  a  head  wind 
and  head  tide,  and  he  would  have  inevitably  drifted 
out  to  sea,  if  Mr.  Thaxter  had  not  saved  him. 

While  we  were  standing  in  his  garden  -  patch,  I 
heard  a  woman's  voice  inside  the  dwelling,  but  know 
not  whose  it  was.  A  light-house  nine  miles  from  shore 
would  be  a  delightful  place  for  a  new-married  couple 
to  spend  their  honeymoon,  or  their  whole  first  year. 

On  our  way  back  we  landed  at  another  island  called 
Londoner's  Rock,  or  some  such  name.  It  has  but  lit 
tle  soil.  As  we  approached  it,  a  large  bird  flew  away. 
Mr.  Thaxter  took  it  to  be  a  gannet;  and,  while  walk 
ing  over  the  island,  an  owl  started  up  from  among  the 
rocks  near  us,  and  flew  away,  apparently  uncertain  of 
its  course.  It  was  a  brown  owl,  but  Mr.  Thaxter  says 
that  there  are  beautiful  white  owls,  which  spend  the 
winter  here,  and  feed  upon  rats.  These  are  very 
abundant,  and  live  amidst  the  rocks,  —  probably  hav 
ing  been  brought  hither  by  vessels. 

The  water  to-day  was  not  so  transparent  as  some 
times,  but  had  a  slight  haze  diffused  through  it,  some 
what  like  that  of  the  atmosphere. 

The  passengers  brought  by  the  Spy,  yesterday,  still 
remain  with  us.  They  consist  of  country  traders,  a 
country  doctor,  and  such  sorts  of  people,  rude,  shrewd, 
and  simple,  and  well-behaved  enough ;  wondering  at 
sharks,  and  equally  at  lobsters ;  sitting  down  to  table 
with  their  coats  off;  helping  themselves  out  of  the 
dish  with  their  own  forks;  taking  pudding  on  the 
plates  off  which  they  have  eaten  meat.  People  at  just 
this  stage  of  manners  are  more  disagreeable  than  at 
any  other  stage.  They  are  aware  of  some  decencies* 


1852.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  427 

but  not  so  deeply  aware  as  to  make  them  a  matter  of 
conscience.  They  may  be  heard  talking  of  the  finan 
cial  affairs  of  the  expedition,  reckoning  what  money 
each  has  paid.  One  offers  to  pay  another  three  or 
four  cents,  which  the  latter  has  overpaid.  "It's  of 
no  consequence,  sir,"  says  his  friend,  with  a  tone  of 
conscious  liberality,  "that's  near  enough."  This  is  a 
most  tremendously  hot  day. 

There  is  a  young  lady  staying  at  the  hotel,  afflicted 
with  what  her  friends  call  erysipelas,  but  which  is 
probably  scrofula.  She  seems  unable  to  walk,  or  sit 
up ;  but  every  pleasant  day,  about  the  middle  of  the 
forenoon,  she  is  dragged  out  beneath  the  veranda,  on 
a  sofa.  To-day  she  has  been  there  until  late  in  the 
decline  of  the  afternoon.  It  is  a  delightful  place, 
where  the  breezes  stir,  if  any  are  in  motion.  The 
young  girls,  her  sisters  or  cousins,  and  Mr.  Thaxter's 
sister,  sat  round  her,  babbling  cheerfully,  and  sing 
ing  ;  and  they  were  so  merry  that  it  did  not  seem  as 
if  there  could  be  an  incurably  sick  one  in  the  midst  of 
them. 

The  Spy  came  to-day,  with  more  passengers  of  no 
particular  character.  She  still  remains  off  the  land 
ing,  moored,  with  her  sails  in  the  wind. 

The  mail  arrived  to-day,  but  nothing  for  me. 

Close  by  the  veranda,  at  the  end  of  the  hotel,  is 
drawn  up  a  large  boat,  of  ten  or  twelve  tons,  which 
got  injured  in  some  gale,  and  probably  will  remain 
there  for  years  to  decay,  and  be  a  picturesque  and 
characteristic  object. 

The  Spy  has  been  lying  in  the  broad  track  of 
golden  light,  thrown  by  the  sun,  far  down  towards  the 
horizon,  over  the  rippling  water,  her  sails  throwing 
distinct,  dark  shadows  over  the  brightness.  She  has 


428  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1852. 

now  got  under  way,  and  set  sail  on  a  northwest  course 
for  Portsmouth;  carrying  off,  I  believe,  all  the  pas- 
sengers  she  brought  to-day. 

September  ~LQth.  —  Here  is  another  beautiful  morn 
ing,  with  the  sun  dimpling  in  the  early  sunshine.  Four 
sail-boats  are  in  sight,  motionless  on  the  sea,  with  the 
whiteness  of  their  sails  reflected  in  it.  The  heat-haze 
sleeps  along  the  shore,  though  not  so  as  quite  to  hide 
it,  and  there  is  the  promise  of  another  very  warm 
day.  As  yet,  however,  the  air  is  cool  and  refreshing. 
Around  the  island,  there  is  the  little  ruffle  of  a  breeze ; 
but  where  the  sail-boats  are,  a  mile  or  more  off,  the 
sea  is  perfectly  calm.  The  crickets  sing,  and  I  hear 
the  chirping  of  birds  besides. 

At  the  base  of  the  light-house  yesterday,  we  saw  the 
wings  and  feathers  of  a  decayed  little  bird,  and  Mr. 
Thaxter  said  they  often  flew  against  the  lantern  with 
such  force  as  to  kill  themselves,  and  that  large  quan 
tities  of  them  might  be  picked  up.  How  came  these 
little  birds  out  of  their  nests  at  night  ?  Why  should 
they  meet  destruction  from  the  radiance  that  proves 
the  salvation  of  other  beings  ? 

Mr.  Thaxter  had  once  a  man  living  with  him  who 
had  seen  "  Old  Bab,"  the  ghost.  He  met  him  between 
the  hotel  and  the  sea,  and  describes  him  as  dressed  in 
a  sort  of  frock,  and  with  a  very  dreadful  countenance. 

Two  or  three  years  ago,  the  crew  of  a  wrecked  ves 
sel,  a  brigantine,  wrecked  near  Boon  Island,  landed  on 
Hog  Island  of  a  winter  night,  and  found  shelter  in  the 
hotel.  It  was  from  the  eastward.  There  were  six  or 
seven  men,  with  the  mate  and  captain.  It  was  mid 
night  when  they  got  ashore.  The  common  sailors,  as 
soon  as  they  were  physically  comfortable,  seemed  to  be 


1852.]  AMERICAN   XOTE-BOOKS.  429 

perfectly  at  ease.  The  captain  walked  the  floor,  be 
moaning  himself  for  a  silver  watch  which  he  had  lost ; 
the  mate,  being  the  only  married  man,  talked  about 
his  Eunice.  They  all  told  their  dreams  of  the  pre 
ceding  night,  and  saw  in  them  prognostics  of  the  mis 
fortune. 

There  is  now  a  breeze,  the  blue  ruffle  of  which 
seems  to  reach  almost  across  to  the  mainland,  yet  with 
streaks  of  calm ;  and,  in  one  place,  the  glassy  surface 
of  a  lake  of  calmness,  amidst  the  surrounding  com 
motion. 

The  wind,  in  the  early  morning,  was  from  the  west, 
and  the  aspect  of  the  sky  seemed  to  promise  a  warm 
and  sunny  day.  But  all  at  once,  soon  after  breakfast, 
the  wind  shifted  round  to  the  eastward  ;  and  great  vol 
umes  of  fog,  almost  as  dense  as  cannon -smoke,  came 
sweeping  from  the  eastern  ocean,  through  the  valley, 
and  past  the  house.  It  soon  covered  the  whole  sea, 
and  the  whole  island,  beyond  a  verge  of  a  few  hundred 
yards.  The  chilliness  was  not  so  great  as  accompa 
nies  a  change  of  wind  on  the  mainland.  We  had  been 
watching  a  large  ship  that  was  slowly  making  her  way 
between  us  and  the  land  towards  Portsmouth.  This 
was  now  hidden.  The  breeze  is  still  very  moderate  ; 
but  the  boat,  moored  near  the  shore,  rides  with  a  con 
siderable  motion,  as  if  the  sea  were  getting  up. 

Mr.  Laighton  says  that  the  artist  who  adorned  Trin 
ity  Church,  in  New  York,  with  sculpture  wanted  some 
real  wings  from  which  to  imitate  the  wings  of  cher« 
ubim.  Mr.  Thaxter  carried  him  the  wings  of  the 
white  owl  that  winters  here  at  the  Shoals,  together 
with  those  of  some  other  bird  ;  and  the  artist  gave  his 
cherubim  the  wings  of  an  owl. 

This  morning  there  have  been  two  boat-loads  of  vis- 


430  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1854 

itors  from  Eye.  They  merely  made  a  flying  call,  and 
took  to  their  boats  again,  —  a  disagreeable  and  imper 
tinent  kind  of  people. 

The  Spy  arrived  before  dinner,  with  several  passen 
gers.  After  dinner,  came  the  Fanny,  bringing,  among 
other  freight,  a  large  basket  of  delicious  pears  to  me, 
together  with  a  note  from  Mr.  B.  B.  Titcomb.  He  is 
certainly  a  man  of  excellent  taste  and  admirable  be 
havior.  I  sent  a  plateful  of  pears  to  the  room  of  each 
guest  now  in  the  hotel,  kept  a  dozen  for  myself,  and 
gave  the  balance  to  Mr.  Laighton. 

The  two  Portsmouth  young  ladies  returned  in  the 
Spy.  I  had  grown  accustomed  to  their  presence,  and 
rather  liked  them ;  one  of  them  being  gay  and  rather 
noisy,  and  the  other  quiet  and  gentle.  As  to  new 
comers,  I  feel  rather  a  distaste  to  them ;  and  so,  I 
find,  does  Mr.  Laighton,  —  a  rather  singular  sentiment 
for  a  hotel-keeper  to  entertain  towards  his  guests. 
However,  he  treats  them  very  hospitably  when  once 
within  his  doors. 

The  sky  is  overcast,  and,  about  the  time  the  Spy 
and  the  Fanny  sailed,  there  were  a  few  drops  of  rain. 
The  wind,  at  that  time,  was  strong  enough  to  raise 
white -caps  to  the  eastward  of  the  island,  and  there 
was  good  hope  of  a  storm.  Now,  however,  the  wind 
has  subsided,  and  the  weather-seers  know  not  what  to 
forebode. 

September  \\th.  —  The  wind  shifted  and  veered 
about,  towards  the  close  of  yesterday,  and  later  it  was 
almost  calm,  after  blowing  gently  from  the  northwest, 
—  notwithstanding  which  it  rained.  There  being  a 
mistiness  in  the  air,  we  could  see  the  gleam  of  the 
light-house  upon  the  mist  above  it,  although  the  light 


1852.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  431 

house  itself  was  hidden  by  the  highest  point  of  this 
island,  or  by  our  being  in  a  valley.  As  we  sat  under 
the  piazza  in  the  evening,  we  saw  the  light  from  on 
board  some  vessel  move  slowly  through  the  distant  ob 
scurity,  —  so  slowly  that  we  were  only  sensible  of  its 
progress  by  forgetting  it  and  looking  again .  The 
plash  and  murmur  of  the  waves  around  the  island 
were  soothingly  audible.  It  was  not  unpleasantly 
cold,  and  Mr.  Laighton,  Mr.  Thaxter,  and  myself  sat 
under  the  piazza  till  long  after  dark ;  the  former  at  a 
little  distance,  occasionally  smoking  his  pipe,  and  Mr. 
Thaxter  and  I  talking  about  poets  and  the  stage.  The 
latter  is  an  odd  subject  to  be  discussed  in  this  stern 
and  wild  scene,  which  has  precisely  the  same  charac 
teristics  now  as  two  hundred  years  ago.  The  mosqui 
toes  were  very  abundant  last  night,  and  they  are  cer 
tainly  a  hardier  race  than  their  inland  brethren. 

This  morning  there  is  a  sullen  sky,  with  scarcely 
any  breeze.  The  clouds  throw  shadows  of  varied  dark 
ness  upon  the  sea.  I  know  not  which  way  the  wind 
is ;  but  the  aspect  of  things  seems  to  portend  a  calm 
drizzle  as  much  as  anything  else. 

About  eleven  o'clock,  Mr.  Thaxter  took  me  over  to 
Smutty  Nose  in  his  dory.  A  sloop  from  the  eastward, 
laden  with  laths,  bark,  and  other  lumber,  and  a  few 
barrels  of  mackerel,  filled  yesterday,  and  was  left  by 
her  skipper  and  crew.  All  the  morning  we  have  seen 
boats  picking  up  her  deck-load,  which  was  scattered 
over  the  sea,  and  along  the  shores  of  the  islands.  The 
skipper  and  his  three  men  got  into  Smutty  Nose  in 
the  boat ;  and  the  sloop  was  afterwards  boarded  by 
the  Smutty  Noses  and  brought  into  that  island.  We 
saw  her  lying  a,t  the  pier,  —  a  black,  ugly,  rotten  old 
thing,  with  the  water  half-way  over  her  decks.  The 


432  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS. 

wonder  was,  how  she  swam  so  long.  The  skipper,  a 
man  of  about  thirty-five  or  forty,  in  a  blue  pilot-cloth 
overcoat,  and  a  rusty,  high-crowned  hat  jammed  down 
over  his  brow,  looked  very  forlorn  ;  while  the  isl 
anders  were  grouped  about,  indolently  enjoying  the 
matter. 

I  walked  with  Mr.  Thaxter  over  the  island,  and  saw 
first  the  graves  of  the  Spaniards.  They  were  wrecked 
on  this  island  a  hundred  years  ago,  and  lie  buried  in  a 
range  about  thirty  feet  in  length,  to  the  number  of  six 
teen,  with  rough,  moss-grown  pieces  of  granite  on  each 
side  of  this  common  grave.  Near  this  spot,  yet  some 
what  removed,  so  as  not  to  be  confounded  with  it,  are 
other  individual  graves,  chiefly  of  the  Haley  family, 
who  were  once  possessors  of  the  island.  These  have 
slate  gravestones.  There  is  also,  within  a  small  en 
closure  of  rough  pine  boards,  a  white  marble  grave 
stone,  in  memory  of  a  young  man  named  Bekker,  son 
of  the  person  who  now  keeps  the  hotel  on  Smutty 
Nose.  He  was  buried,  Mr.  Thaxter  says,  notwith 
standing  his  marble  monument,  in  a  rude  pine  box, 
which  he  himself  helped  to  make. 

We  walked  to  the  farthest  point  of  the  island,  and 
I  have  never  seen  a  more  dismal  place  than  it  was  OK 
this  sunless  and  east -windy  day,  being  the  farthest 
point  out  into  the  melancholy  sea  which  was  in  no 
very  agreeable  mood,  and  roared  sullenly  against  the 
wilderness  of  rocks.  One  mass  of  rock,  more  than 
twelve  feet  square,  was  thrown  up  out  of  the  sea  in  a 
storm,  not  many  years  since,  and  now  lies  athwart- 
wise,  never  to  be  moved  unless  another  omnipotent 
wave  shall  give  it  another  toss.  On  shore,  such  a 
rock  would  be  a  landmark  for  centuries.  It  is  incon 
ceivable  how  a  sufficient  mass  of  water  could  be 


i!852.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS. 

brought  to  bear  on  this  ponderous  mass  ;  but,  not  im 
probably,  all  the  fragments  piled  upon  one  another 
round  these  islands  have  thus  been  flung  to  and  fro  at 
one  time  or  another. 

There  is  considerable  land  that  would  serve  tolera 
bly  for  pasture  011  Smutty  Nose,  and  here  and  there 
a  little  enclosure  of  richer  grass,  built  round  with  a 
strong  stone-wall.  The  same  kind  of  enclosure  is  prev 
alent  on  Star  Island,  —  each  small  proprietor  fenc 
ing  off  his  little  bit  of  tillage  or  grass.  Wild-flowers 
are  abundant  and  various  on  these  islands  ;  the  bay- 
berry-bush  is  plentiful  on  Smutty  Nose,  and  makes* 
the  hand  that  crushes  it  fragrant. 

The  hotel  is  kept  by  a  Prussian,  an  old  soldier,  who 
fought  at  the  Battle  of  Waterloo.  We  saw  him  in 
the  barn,  —  a  gray,  heavy,  round-skulled  old  fellow, 
troubled  with  deafness.  The  skipper  of  the  wrecked 
sloop  had,  apparently,  just  been  taking  a  drop  of  com 
fort,  but  still  seemed  downcast.  He  took  passage  in 
a  fishing- vessel,  the  Wave,  of  Kittery,  for, Portsmouth  ; 
and  I  know  not  why,  but  there  was  something  that 
made  me  smile  in  his  grim  and  gloomy  look,  his  rusty, 
jammed  hat,  his  rough  and  grisly  beard,  and  in  his 
mode  of  chewing  tobacco,  with  much  action  of  the 
jaws,  getting  out  the  juice  as  largely  as  possible,  as 
men  always  do  when  disturbed  in  mind.  1  looked  at 
him  earnestly,  and  was  conscious  of  something  that 
marked  him  out  from  among  the  careless  islanders 
around  him.  Being  as  much  discomposed  as  it  was 
possible  for  him  to  be,  his  feelings  individualized  the 
iian  and  magnetized  the  observer.  When  he  got 
9 board  the  fishing  -  vessel,  he  seemed  not  entirely  at 
Lis  ease,  being  accustomed  to  command  and  work 
amongst  his  own  little  crew,  and  now  having  nothing 


VOL.  IS. 


484  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1852, 

to  do.  Nevertheless,  unconsciously  perhaps,  he  lent 
a  hand  to  whatever  was  going  on,  and  yet  had  a  kind 
of  strangeness  about  him.  As  the  Wave  set  sail,  we 
were  just  starting  in  our  dory,  and  a  young  fellow,  an 
acquaintance  of  Mr.  Thaxter,  proposed  to  take  us  m 
tow  ;  so  we  were  dragged  along  at  her  stern  very  rap 
idly,  and  with  a  whitening  wake,  until  we  came  off 
Hog  Island.  Then  the  dory  was  cast  loose,  and  Mr 
Thaxter  rowed  ashore  against  a  head  sea, 

The  day  is  still  overcast,  and  the  wind  is  from  the 
eastward  ;  but  it  does  not  increase,  and  the  sun  ap 
pears  occasionally  on  the  point  of  shining  out.  A 
boat  —  the  Fanny,  I  suppose,  from  Portsmouth  — 
has  just  come  to  her  moorings  in  front  of  the  hotel- 
A  sail-boat  has  put  off  from  her,  with  a  passenger  in 
the  stern.  Pray  God  she  bring  me  a  letter  with  good 
news  from  home  ;  for  I  begin  to  feel  as  if  I  had  been 
long  enough  away. 

There  is  a  bowling-alley  on  Smutty  Nose,  at  which 
some  of  the  Star  -  Islanders  were  playing,  when  we 
were  there.  I  saw  only  two  dwelling-houses  besides 
the  hotel.  Connected  with  Smutty  Nose,  by  a  stone 
wall  there  is  another  little  bit  of  island,  called  Malaga. 
Both  are  the  property  of  Mr.  Laighton. 

Mr.  Laighton  says  that  the  Spanish  wreck  occurred 
forty-seven  years  ago,  instead  of  a  hundred.  Some  of 
the  dead  bodies  were  found  on  Malaga,  others  on  va 
rious  parts  of  the  next  island.  One  or  two  had  crept 
to  a  stone-wall  that  traverses  Smutty  Nose,  but  were 
unable  to  get  over  it.  One  was  found  among  the 
bushes  the  next  summer.  Mr.  Haley  had  been  buried 
at  his  own  expense. 

The  skipper  of  the  wrecked  sloop,  yesterday,  was 
unwilling  to  go  to  Portsmouth  until  he  was  shaved, 


,832.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  435 

- —  his  beard  being  of  several  days'  growth.  It  seems 
to  be  the  impulse  of  people  under  misfortune  to  put 
on  their  best  clothes,  and  attend  to  the  decencies  of 
life. 

The  Fanny  brought  a  passenger,  —  a  thin,  stiff, 
black-haired  young  man,  who  enters  his  name  as  MrJ 
Tufts,  from  Charlestown.  He,  and  a  country  trader, 
his  wife,  sister,  and  two  children  (all  of  whom  have 
been  here  several  days),  are  now  the  only  guests  be 
sides  myself. 

September  \Wi.  —  The  night  set  in  sullen  and 
gloomy,  and  morning  has  dawned  in  pretty  much  the 
same  way.  The  wind,  however,  seems  rising  somewhat, 
and  grumbles  past  the  angle  of  the  house.  Perhaps 
we  shall  see  a  storm  yet  from  the  eastward  ;  and,  hav 
ing  the  whole  sweep  of  the  broad  Atlantic  between 
here  and  Ireland,  I  do  not  see  why  it  should  not  be 
fully  equal  to  a  storm  at  sea. 

It  has  been  raining  more  or  less  all  the  forenoon, 
and  now,  at  twelve  o'clock,  blows,  as  Mr.  Laigbton 
says,  "  half  a  gale  "  from  the  southeast.  Through  the 
opening  of  our  shallow  valley,  towards  the  east,  there 
is  the  prospect  of  a  tumbling  sea,  with  hundreds  of 
white-caps  chasing  one  another  over  it.  In  front  of 
the  hotel,  being  to  leeward,  the  water  near  the  shore 
is  but  slightly  ruffled  ;  but  farther  the  sea  is  agitated, 
and  the  surf  breaks  over  Square  Kock.  All  around 
the  horizon,  landward  as  well  as  seaward,  the  view  is 
shut  in  by  a  mist.  Sometimes  I  have  a  dim  sense  of 
the  continent  beyond,  but  no  more  distinct  than  the 
thought  of  the  other  world  to  the  unenlightened  soul. 
The  sheep  bleat  in  their  desolate  pasture.  The  wind 
shakes  the  house.  A  loon,  seeking,  I  suppose,  some 


436  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1852, 

quieter  resting-place  than  on  the  troubled  waves,  was 
seen  swimming  just  now  in  the  cove  not  more  than  a 
hundred  yards  from  the  hotel.  Judging  by  the  pother 
which  this  "  half  a  gale  "  makes  with  the  sea,  it  must 
have  been  a  terrific  time,  indeed,  when  that  great  wave 
rushed  and  roared  across  the  islands. 

Since  dinner,  I  have  been  to  the  eastern  shore  to 
look  at  the  sea.  It  is  a  wild  spectacle,  but  still,  I  sup 
pose,  lacks  an  infinite  deal  of  being  a  storm.  Outside 
of  this  island  there  is  a  long  and  low  one  (or  two  in  a 
line),  looking  more  like  a  reef  of  rocks  than  an  island, 
and  at  the  distance  of  a  mile  or  more.  There  the  surf 
and  spray  break  gallantly,  —  white-sheeted  forms  ris 
ing  up  all  at  once,  and  hovering  a  moment  in  the  air. 
Spots  which,  in  calm  times,  are  not  discernible  from 
the  rest  of  the  ocean,  now  are  converted  into  white, 
foamy  breakers.  The  swell  of  the  waves  against  our 
shore  makes  a  snowy  depth,  tinged  with  green,  for 
many  feet  back  from  the  shore.  The  longer  waves 
swell,  overtop,  and  rush  upon  the  rocks  ;  and,  when 
they  return,  the  waters  pour  back  in  a  cascade. 
Against  the  outer  points  of  Smutty  Nose  and  Star  Isl 
and,  there  is  a  higher  surf  than  here;  because,  the 
wind  being  from  the  southeast,  these  islands  receive 
it  first,  and  form  a  partial  barrier  in  respect  to  this. 
While  I  looked,  there  was  moisture  in  the  air,  and 
occasional  spats  of  rain.  The  uneven  places  in  the 
rocks  were  full  of  the  fallen  rain. 

It  is  quite  impossible  to  give  an  idea  of  these  rocky 
shores,  —  how  confusedly  they  are  tossed  together,  ly 
ing  in  all  directions ;  what  solid  ledges,  what  great 
fragments  thrown  out  from  the  rest.  Often  the  rocks 
are  broken,  square  and  angular,  so  as  to  form  a  kind 
of  staircase ;  though,  for  the  most  part,  such  as  would 
require  a  giant  stride  to  ascend  them. 


1852.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  437 

Sometimes  a  black  trap-rock  runs  through  the  bed 
of  granite  ;  sometimes  the  sea  has  eaten  this  away, 
leaving  a  long,  irregular  fissure.  In  some  places,  ow^ 
ing  to  the  same  cause  perhaps,  there  is  a  great  hollow 
place  excavated  into  the  ledge,  and  forming  a  harbor, 
into  which  the  sea  flows  ;  and,  while  there  is  foam  and 
fury  at  the  entrance,  it  is  comparatively  calm  within. 
Some  parts  of  the  crag  are  as  much  as  fifty  feet  of 
perpendicular  height,  down  which  you  look  over  a 
bare  and  smooth  descent,  at  the  base  of  which  is  a 
shaggy  margin  of  sea-weed.  But  it  is  vain  to  try  to 
express  this  confusion.  As  much  as  anything  else,  it 
seems  as  if  some  of  the  massive  materials  of  the  world 
remained  superfluous,  after  the  Creator  had  finished, 
and  were  carelessly  thrown  down  here,  where  the  mill 
ionth  part  of  them  emerge  from  the  sea,  and  in  the 
course  of  thousands  of  years  have  become  partially  be 
strewn  with  a  little  soil. 

The  wind  has  changed  to  southwest,  and  blows 
pretty  freshly.  The  sun  shone  before  it  set ;  and  the 
mist,  which  all  day  has  overhung  the  land,  now  takes 
the  aspect  of  a  cloud,  —  drawing  a  thin  veil  between 
us  and  the  shore,  and  rising  above  it.  In  our  own  at 
mosphere  there  is  no  fog  nor  mist. 

September  \2>th.  —  I  spent  last  evening,  as  well  as 
part  of  the  evening  before,  at  Mr.  Thaxter's.  It  is 
certainly  a  romantic  incident  to  find  such  a  young 
man  on  this  lonely  island ;  his  marriage  with  the 
pretty  Miranda  is  true  romance.  In  our  talk  we  have 
glanced  over  many  matters,  and,  among  the  rest,  that 
of  the  stage,  to  prepare  himself  for  which  was  his  first 
motive  in  coming  hither.  He  appears  quite  to  have 
given  up  any  dreams  of  that  kind  now.  What  he  will 


438  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1852 

do  on  returning  to  the  world,  as  his  purpose  is,  I  can 
not  imagine  ;  but,  no  doubt,  through  all  their  remain 
ing  life,  both  he  and  she  will  look  back  to  this  rocky 
ledge,  with  its  handful  of  soil,  as  to  a  Paradise. 

Last  evening  we  (Mr.,  Mrs.,  and  Miss  Thaxter)  sat 
and  talked  of  ghosts  and  kindred  subjects  ;  and  they 
told  me  of  the  appearance  of  a  little  old  woman  in 
a  striped  gown,  that  had  come  into  that  house  a  few 
months  ago.  She  was  seen  by  nobody  but  an  Irish 
nurse,  who  spoke  to  her,  but  received  no  answer.  The 
little  woman  drew  her  chair  up  towards  the  fire,  and 
stretched  out  her  feet  to  warm  them.  By  and  by  the 
nurse,  who  suspected  nothing  of  her  ghostly  character, 
went  to  get  a  pail  of  water ;  and,  when  she  came  back, 
the  little  woman  was  not  there.  It  being  known  pre 
cisely  how  many  and  what  people  were  on  the  island, 
and  that  no  such  little  woman  was  among  them,  the 
fact  of  her  being  a  ghost  is  incontestable.  I  taught 
them  how  to  discover  the  hidden  sentiments  of  letters 
by  suspending  a  gold  ring  over  them.  Ordinarily, 
since  I  have  been  here,  we  have  spent  the  evening 
under  the  piazza,  where  Mr.  Laighton  sits  to  take  the 
air.  He  seems  to  avoid  the  wi thin-doors  whenever  he 
can.  So  there  he  sits  in  the  sea-breezes,  when  inland 
people  are  probably  drawing  their  chairs  to  the  fire 
side  ;  and  there  I  sit  with  him,  —  not  keeping  up  a 
continual  flow  of  talk,  but  each  speaking  as  any  wis 
dom  happens  to  come  into  his  mind. 

The  wind,  this  morning,  is  from  the  northwestward, 
rather  brisk,  but  not  very  strong.  There  is  a  scatter 
ing  of  clouds  about  the  sky  ;  but  the  atmosphere  is 
singularly  clear,  and  we  can  see  several  hills  of  the  in 
terior,  the  cloud -like  White  Mountains,  and,  along 
the  shore,  the  long  white  beaches  and  the  dotted 


1852.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  439 

dwellings,  with  great  distinctness.     Many  small  ves 
sels  spread  their  wings,  and  go  seaward. 

I  have  been  rambling  over  the  southern  part  of  the 
island,  and  looking  at  the  traces  of  habitations  there. 
There  are  several  enclosures,  —  the  largest,  perhaps, 
thirty  yards  square,  —  surrounded  with  a  rough  stone 
wall  of  very  mossy  antiquity,  built  originally  broad 
and  strong,  two  or  three  large  stones  in  width,  and 
piled  up  breast-high  or  more,  and  taking  advantage  of 
the  extending  ledge  to  make  it  higher.  Within  this 
enclosure  there  is  almost  a  clear  space  of  soil,  which 
was  formerly,  no  doubt,  cultivated  as  a  garden,  but  is 
now  close  cropt  by  the  sheep  and  cattle,  except  where 
it  produces  thistles,  or  the  poisonous  weed  called  mer 
cury,  which  seems  to  love  these  old  walls,  and  to  root 
itself  in  or  near  them.  These  walls  are  truly  venerable, 
gray,  and  mossy  ;  and  you  see  at  once  that  the  hands 
that  piled  the  stones  must  have  been  long  ago  turned 
to  dust.  Close  by  the  enclosure  is  the  hollow  of  an 
old  cellar,  with  rocks  tumbled  into  it,  but  the  layers 
of  stone  at  the  side  still  to  be  traced,  and  bricks, 
broken  or  with  rounded  edges,  scattered  about,  and 
perhaps  pieces  of  lime  ;  and  weeds  and  grass  growing 
about  the  whole.  Several  such  sites  of  former  human 
homes  may  be  seen  there,  none  of  which  can  possibly 
be  later  than  the  Revolution,  and  probably  they  are 
as  old  as  the  settlement  of  the  island.  The  site  has 
Smutty  Nose  and  Star  opposite,  with  a  road  (that  is, 
a  water-road)  between,  varying  from  half  a  mile  to  a 
mile.  Duck  Island  is  also  seen  on  the  left ;  and,  on 
the  right,  the  shore  of  the  mainland.  Behind,  the 
rising  ground  intercepts  the  view.  Smith's  monument 
is  visible.  I  do  not  see  where  the  inhabitants  could 
have  kept  their  boats,  unless  in  the  chasms  worn  by 
the  sea  into  the  rocks. 


440  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1852 

One  of  these  chasms  has  a  spring  of  fresh  water  in 
the  gravelly  base,  down  to  which  the  sea  has  worn  out. 
The  chasm  has  perpendicular,  though  irregular,  sides, 
which  the  waves  have  chiselled  out  very  square.  Its 
width  varies  from  ten  to  twenty  feet,  widest  towards 
the  sea ;  and  on  the  shelves,  up  and  down  the  sides^ 
some  soil  has  been  here  and  there  accumulated,  or. 
which  grow  grass  and  wild-flowers,  — such  as  golden- 
rod,  now  in  bloom,  and  raspberry-bushes,  the  fruit  of 
which  I  found  ripe,  —  the  whole  making  large  parts 
of  the  sides  of  the  chasm  green,  its  verdure  overhang 
ing  the  strip  of  sea  that  dashes  and  foams  into  the 
hollow.  Sea  -  weed,  besides  what  grows  upon  and 
shags  the  submerged  rocks,  is  tossed  into  the  harborT 
together  with  stray  pieces  of  wood,  chips,  barrel-staves. 
or  (as  to-day)  an  entire  barrel,  or  whatever  else  the 
sea  happens  to  have  on  hand.  The  water  rakes  to 
and  fro  over  the  pebbles  at  the  bottom  of  the  chasm, 
drawing  back,  and  leaving  much  of  it  bare,  then  rush 
ing  up,  with  more  or  less  of  foam  and  fury,  according 
to  the  force  and  direction  of  the  wind  :  though,  owing 
to  the  protection  of  the  adjacent  islands,  it  can  never 
have  a  gale  blowing  right  into  its  mouth.  The  spring 
is  situated  so  far  down  the  chasm,  that,  at  half  or  two 
thirds  tide,  it  is  covered  by  the  sea.  Twenty  minutes 
after  the  retiring  of  the  tide  suffices  to  restore  to  it  its 
wonted  freshness. 

In  another  chasm,  very  much  like  the  one  here  de 
scribed,  I  saw  a  niche  in  the  rock,  about  tall  enough 
for  a  person  of  moderate  stature  to  stand  upright.  It 
had  a  triangular  floor  and  a  top,  and  was  just  the  place 
to  hold  the  rudest  statue  that  ever  a  savage  made. 

Many  of  the  ledges  on  the  island  have  yellow  moss 
«)r  lichens  spread  on  them  in  large  patches.  The  moss 
of  those  stone  walls  does  reallv  look  verv  old. 


1852.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  441 

"  Old  Bab,"  the  ghost,  has  a  ring  round  bis  neck, 
and  is  supposed  either  to  have  been  hung  or  to  have 
had  his  throat  cut,  but  he  steadfastly  declines  telling 
the  mode  of  his  death.  There  is  a  luminous  appear- 
aiice  about  him  as  he  walks,  and  his  face  is  pale  and 
very  dreadful. 

The  Fanny  arrived  this  forenoon,  and  sailed  again 
before  dinner.  She  brought,  as  passenger,  a  Mr, 
Balch,  brother  to  the  country  trader  who  has  been 
spending  a  few  days  here.  On  her  return,  she  has 
swept  the  islands  of  all  the  non-residents  except  my 
self.  The  wind  being  ahead,  and  pretty  strong,  she 
will  have  to  beat  up,  and  the  voyage  will  be  anything 
but  agreeable.  The  spray  flew  before  her  bows,  and 
doubtless  gave  the  passengers  all  a  thorough  wetting 
within  the  first  half-hour. 

The  view  of  Star  Island  or  Gosport  from  the  north 
is  picturesque,  —  the  village,  or  group  of  houses,  being 
gathered  pretty  closely  together  in  the  centre  of  the 
island,  with  some  green  about  them ;  and  above  all 
the  other  edifices,  wholly  displayed,  stands  the  little 
stone  church,  with  its  tower  and  belfry.  On  the  right 
is  White  Island,  with  the  light-house  ;  to  the  right  of 
that,  and  a  little  to  the  northward,  Londoner's  Hock, 
where,  perhaps,  of  old,  some  London  ship  was  wrecked. 
To  the  left  of  Star  Island,  and  nearer  Hog,  or  Apple- 
dore,  is  Smutty  Nose.  Pour  the  blue  sea  about  these 
islets,  and  let  the  surf  whiten  and  steal  up  from  their 
points,  and  from  the  reefs  about  them  (which  latter 
whiten  for  an  instant,  and  then  are  lost  in  the  whelm 
ing  and  eddying  depths),  the  northwest-wind  the  while 
raising  thousands  of  white-caps,  and  the  evening  sun 
shining  solemnly  over  the  expanse,  —  and  it  is  a  stern 
»nd  lovely  scene 


442  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [1852 

The  valleys  that  intersect,  or  partially  intersect,  the 
island  are  a  remarkable  feature.  They  appear  to  be 
of  the  same  formation  as  the  fissures  in  the  rocks,  but, 
as  they  extend  farther  from  the  sea,  they  accumulate 
a  little  soil  along  the  irregular  sides,  and  so  become 
green  and  shagged  with  bushes,  though  with  the  rock 
everywhere  thrusting  itself  through.  The  old  people 
of  the  isles  say  that  their  fathers  could  remember  when 
the  sea,  at  high  tide,  flowed  quite  through  the  valley 
in  which  the  hotel  stands,  and  that  boats  used  to  pass. 
Afterwards  it  was  a  standing  pond  ;  then  a  morass, 
with  cat-tail  flags  growing  in  it.  It  has  filled  up,  so 
far  as  it  is  filled,  by  the  soil  being  washed  down  from 
the  higher  ground  on  each  side.  The  storms,  mean 
while,  have  tossed  up  the  shingle  and  paving-stones 
at  each  end  of  the  valley,  so  as  to  form  a  barrier 
against  the  passage  of  any  but  such  mighty  waves  as 
that  which  thundered  through  a  year  or  two  ago. 

The  old  inhabitants  lived  in  the  centre  or  towards 
the  south  of  the  island,  and  avoided  the  north  and  east 
because  the  latter  were  so  much  bleaker  in  winter. 
They  could  moor  their  boats  in  the  road,  between 
Smutty  Nose  and  Hog,  but  could  not  draw  them  up. 
Mr.  Laighton  found  traces  of  old  dwellings  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  hotel,  and  it  is  supposed  that  the  prin 
cipal  part  of  the  population  was  on  this  island.  I 
spent  the  evening  at  Mr.  Thaxter's,  and  we  drank  a 
glass  of  his  1820  Schiedam.  The  northwest-wind  was 
high  at  ten  o'clock,  when  I  came  home,  the  tide  full, 
and  the  murmur  of  the  waves  broad  and  deep. 

September  14^.  —  Another  of  the  brightest  of 
sunny  mornings.  The  wind  is  not  nearly  so  high  as 
tast  night,  but  it  is  apparently  still  from  the  north 


1852.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  443 

west,  and  serves  to  make  the  sea  look  very  blue  and 
cold.  The  atmosphere  is  so  transparent  that  objects 
seem  perfectly  distinct  along  the  mainland.  To-day 
I  must  be  in  Portsmouth;  to-morrow,  at  home.  A 
brisk  west  or  northwest-wind,  making  the  sea  so  blue, 
gives  a  very  distinct  outline  in  its  junction  with  the 
sky. 

September  "LQth.  —  On  Tuesday,  the  14th,  there  was 
no  opportunity  to  get  to  the  mainland.  Yesterday 
morning  opened  with  a  southeast  rain,  which  continued 
all  day.  The  Fanny  arrived  in  the  forenoon,  with 
some  coal  for  Mr.  Laighton,  and  sailed  again  before 
dinner,  taking  two  of  the  maids  of  the  house ;  but  as 
it  rained  pouring,  and  as  I  could  not,  at  any  rate,  have 
got  home  to-night,  there  would  have  been  no  sense  in 
my  going.  It  began  to  clear  up  in  the  decline  of  the 
day;  the  sun  shot  forth  some  golden  arrows  a  little 
before  his  setting;  and  the  sky  was  perfectly  clear 
when  I  went  to  bed,  after  spending  the  evening  at 
Mr.  Thaxter's.  This  morning  is  clear  and  bright; 
but  the  wind  is  northwest,  making  the  sea  look  blue 
and  cold,  with  little  breaks  of  white  foam.  It  is  un 
favorable  for  a  trip  to  the  mainland ;  but  doubtless 
I  shall  find  an  opportunity  of  getting  ashore  before 
night. 

The  highest  part  of  Appledore  is  about  eighty  feet 
above  the  sea.  Mr.  Laighton  has  seen  whales  off  the 
island,  —  both  on  the  eastern  side  and  between  it  and 
the  mainland  ;  once  a  great  crowd  of  them,  as  many 
as  fifty.  They  were  drawn  in  by  pursuing  their  food, 
—  a  small  fish  called  herring-bait,  which  came  ashore 
in  such  abundance  that  Mr.  Laighton  dipped  up  bas- 
ketfuls  of  them.  No  attempt  was  made  to  take  the 
whales. 


£44  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  [185a 

There  are  vague  traditions  of  trees  on  these  islands. 
One  of  them,  Cedar  Island,  is  said  to  have  been  named 
from  the  trees  that  grew  on  it.  The  matter  appears 
improbable,  though,  Mr.  Thaxter  says,  large  quanti 
ties  of  soil  are  annually  washed  into  the  sea ;  so  that 
the  islands  may  have  been  better  clad  with  earth  and! 
its  productions  than  now. 

Mrs.  Thaxter  tells  me  that  there  are  several  burial- 
places  on  this  island  ;  but  nobody  has  been  buried 
here  since  the  Revolution.  Her  own  marriage  was 
the  first  one  since  that  epoch,  and  her  little  Karl,  now 
three  months  old,  the  first-born  child  in  all  those 
eighty  years. 

[  Then  follow  Extracts  from  the  Church  Records  of 
Gosport.~\ 

This  book  of  the  church  records  of  Gosport  is  a 
small  folio,  well  bound  in  dark  calf,  and  about  an  inch 
thick ;  the  paper  very  stout,  with  a  water-mark  of  an 
armed  man  in  a  sitting  posture,  holding  a  spear  .  .  . 
over  a  lion,  who  brandishes  a  sword;  on  alternate 
pages  the  Crown,  and  beneath  it  the  letters  G.  R, 
The  motto  of  the  former  device  Pro  Patria.  The 
book  is  written  in  a  very  legible  hand,  probably  by 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Tucke.  The  ink  is  not  much  faded. 

Concord,  March  9,  1853.  —  Finished,  this  day,  the 
last  story  of  "  Tanglewood  Tales."  They  were  written 
in  the  following  order  :  — 

"  The  Pomegranate  Seeds." 

"  The  Minotaur." 

"  The  Golden  Fleece." 

"  The  Dragon's  Teeth." 

"  Circe's  Palace." 

"  The  Pygmies." 


1853.]  AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS.  445 

The  Introduction  is  yet  to  be  written.  Wrote  it 
13th  March.  I  went  to  Washington  (my  first  visit) 
on  14th  April. 

Caresses,  expressions  cf  ere  sort  or  another,  are 
necessary  to  the  life  of  the  affections,  as  leaves  are 
to  the  life  of  a  tree.  If  they  are  wholly  restrained, 
love  will  die  at  the  roots. 

June  Qth.  —  Cleaning  the  attic  to-day,  here  at  the 
Wayside,  the  woman  found  an  immense  snake,  flat  and 
outrageously  fierce,  thrusting  out  its  tongue.  Ellen, 
the  cook,  killed  it.  She  called  it  an  adder,  but  it  ap 
pears  to  have  been  a  striped  snake.  It  seems  a  fiend, 
haunting  the  house.  On  further  inquiry,  the  snake  is 
described  as  plaided  with  brown  and  black. 

Cupid  in  these  latter  times  has  probably  laid  aside 
his  bow  and  arrows,  and  uses  fire-arms,  —  a  pistol,  — 
perhaps  a  revolver. 

I  burned  great  heaps  of  old  letters,  and  other  pa 
pers,  a  little  while  ago,  preparatory  to  going  to  Eng 
land.  Among  them  were  hundreds  of 's  letters. 

The  world  has  no  more  such,  and  now  they  are  all 
dust  and  ashes.  What  a  trustful  guardian  of  secret 
matters  is  fire !  What  should  we  do  without  fire  and 
death  ? 


INDEX. 


A ,  Lieutenant,  108. 

Abby,  Miss,  366. 

Abyssinians,  39. 

Acadians,  the,  238. 

Acadie,  208. 

Action,  125. 

Adam  and  Eve,  33,  39,  228,  284,  285,  300, 
309,  315,  354. 

Adams,  North,  134,  135,  137,  149,  203. 

Advice,  275. 

Africa,  Julia,  201. 

Afternoon,  14,  96. 

Age,  294,  347. 

Agriculture,  228.  See  Gardens,  Mowing, 
and  Work. 

Alchemy,  206. 

Alcott,  Amos  B.,  332,  339. 

Alexander,  209. 

Allen,  Rev.  Thomas,  132. 

Allen,  William,  231,  247,  250,  259. 

Almshouse,  an,  41. 

Ambition,  42. 

American  architecture,  30. 

Amputation,  137. 

Anemone,  an,  233. 

Angling,  50,  59,  64,  119,  122,  281,  286, 
288,  303,  309,  325,  350,  397,  404;  at  the 
Isles  of  Shoals,  417. 

Animals,  397.  See  Bats,  Bears,  Cats, 
Cows,  Dogs,  Elephants,  Foxes,  Frogs, 
Horses,  a  Hyena,  a  Lion,  a  Monkey, 
Pigs,  Salamanders,  Saurians,  Sheep, 
Snakes,  a  Squirrel,  Turtles,  Whales, 
Wolves. 

Antwerp,  40. 

Apollo  Belvedere,  407. 

Appledore,  stay  at,  411-444  ;  physical 
features  and  landmarks  of,  412,  421, 
422,  436,  437, 439,  440, 442-444  ;  history 
and  traditions  of,  412,  416,  417,  441 ; 
inhabitants  of,  417. 

Apples,  95,  100,  295,  309,  326,  408. 

Apple-toddy,  415. 

Appleton,  Miss,  63. 

Ararat,  210. 

Architecture,  30,  55,  57,  209. 

Aristocracy,  American,  81  ;  old,  88. 

Ark,  the,  210. 

Artillery-man,  a  French,  40. 

Artists'  room,  an,  373. 

Ashfield,  126. 

Asphyxia  Davis,  279. 


Athenaeum,  221,  333,  341,  343,  370,  374. 

Atkinson,  General,  279. 

Aub6pine,  Monsieur  de  L',  59. 

Audiences,  382. 

Augusta,  56,  64,  67. 

Augustin,  St.,  20. 

Augustus,  Emperor,  35. 

Auld  Lang  Syne,  72. 

Author,  an,  89. 

Autumn,  25,  29,  31,  95,  97,  98,  101,  102, 
255,  256,  2CO,  2C3,  264,  267,  269,  270, 
307,  326,  327,  328,  357,  358,  393,  394. 

Avery,  E.  K.,123. 

B 45,  56,  79. 

B Ben,  364. 

B Colonel,  C8. 

B G.,  311. 

B Miss  C.,  364. 

B Mrs.,  227,  366. 

Bacon,  Lord,  93. 

Bainbridpe,  Commodore,  92. 

Baker's  Island,  120,  121. 

Baker's  Tavern,  72. 

Balch,  Mr.,441. 

Bald  Mountain,  405. 

Ball,  a  fancy,  34. 

Bancroft,  Mr.,  225. 

Baptist  preacher,  a,  144. 

Bar-rooms,  375,  377,  388. 

Bathinp,   15,  52.  69,  145,  175,  286,  267, 

304,  359. 
Bats,  161. 
Beach  birds,  103. 
Bears,  193,  195. 
Beauty,  347. 
Beds,  ancient,  31. 
Bees,  275,  299. 
Bekker,  Mr.,  432. 
Bellows-pipe,  the,  197. 
Bells  tolling,  190. 
Benevolence,  72. 
Benton,  Thomas  Hart,  44. 
Benton's  mint-drops,  18. 
Bertrer,  M.  LP,  59. 
Berkshire,  201. 
Berkshire  Hotel.  130. 
Betty  Moody's  Hole,  41& 
Beverly,  98. 
Beverly,  Upper,  15. 
Bible,  a  Hebrew,  203. 
Birch,  Mr.,  178. 


448 


INDEX. 


Birds,  owls,  17,  426 ;  eagles,  31 ;  chim 
ney  swallows,  78  ;  imprisoned,  79  ; 
beach,  103  ;  the  Phoenix,  210  ;  spar 
rows,  211  ;  crows,  137,  264,  306,  346  ,- 
hens,  299,  390  ;  in  storms,  315  ;  327, 
346  ;  gulls,  346  ;  dreaming,  350  ;  a  ca 
nary,  374  ;  killed,  428  •,  a  loon,  435. 

Bishop  of  Worcester,  Prideaux,  26. 

Black  Hawk,  149. 

Blacksmith,  a,  141. 

Blind  man,  a,  38  ;  and  his  guides,  87  ; 
202. 

Bliss,  Daniel,  396. 

BlitJiedale  Romance,  The,  409. 

Blockhead  and  scold,  26. 

Blood,  ice  in  the,  210. 

Bloody  footprint,  395. 

Blue  Hill,  267. 

Boats,  60,  63.  120,  320,  322,  343  ;  voyage 
of  a  child,  403  ;  427,  434. 

Bodies  undeeayed,  41. 

Boon  Island,  428. 

Bore,  a,  361. 

Boston,  16,  370,  377. 

Boston,  East,  16. 

Boundary  Question,  57,  68. 

Boxer,  the,  92, 

Bradford,  George,  235,  251. 

Bradford,  Governor,  88. 

Bradford,  Mr.,  368. 

Brazer,  Mr.  (minister),  25. 

Breach  of  promise,  41. 

Bremer,  Daniel,  396. 

Bremer,  Miss,  392. 

Bride  and  groom,  132,  208. 

Bridge  (purser),  113,  114,  115. 

Briggs(M.  C.),  131. 

Brighton,  247,  248,  266. 

Brighton  Fair,  248. 

Brobdingnag,  275. 

Brook  Farm,  226,  237,  240,  243,  334. 

Brookhouse's  Villa,  102. 

Brooks,  50,  69,  105,  134,  146,  156,  165, 
175,  255,  394,  400,  403. 

Brotherhood  of  the  unlike,  27. 

Brown  College,  163. 

Browne,  Sir  T.,  809. 

Browne's  Folly,  100. 

Browne's  Hill,  98. 

Bruises,  339,  342. 

Brunette,  a,  383. 

Brute,  man  a,  33. 

Bryant,  William  Cullen,  373. 

Buckingham,  Duke  of,  206. 

Buff  and  Blue,  41. 

Bullfrog,  Mrs.,  239. 

Bunker  Hill  Monument,  215. 

Burial  in  a  cloud,  209. 

Burial-grounds,  19,  81  ;  Charier,  Street, 
118  ;  Pittsfield,  131 ;  176, 186,  201,  202, 
269,  397 ;  at  Gosport,  418 ;  at  Smutty 
Nose  Island,  432  ;  on  the  Isles  of 
Shoals,  444. 

Burning  of  maskers,  124. 

Butchers,  282. 

Butterflies;  224. 

ButteruuU),  157. 


C ,363. 

C ,  H.  L.,208. 

Calamities,  36. 

Cambridge  Divinity  School,  163. 

Canaan,  202. 

Canadians,  53,  57. 

Canary,  a,  374. 

Candide,  333. 

Cannon,  smoke  of,  21,  24,  40. 

Cannon-shot,  effect  of,  93. 

Canova,  339. 

Caravans,  167,  191,  192. 

Caresses,  445. 

Carlyle  on  Heroes,  233. 

Casts,  402. 

Caswell,  Joe,  418,  419. 

Catastrophes,  21 ;  unforeseen,  28. 

Cats,  386. 

Cave,  a,  197. 

Cedar  Island.  444. 

Celestial  Railroad,  The,  361. 

Cellini,  Benvenuto,  395. 

Century,  the,  personified,  396. 

Cervantes,  Tales,  of,  372. 

Chain  and  padlock.  26. 

Chaise,  runaway,  79. 

Chances,  The,  206. 

Chandler,  J.  A.,  72. 

Change,  in  character,  21  ;  in  love,  22 
in  age,  24 ;  of  face,  209. 

Charming,  Ellery,  334,  343,  346,  367,  408 

Chapel,  King's,  20. 

Character,    change  in,  21  ;  altered  bj 
condition,  98. 

Characters,  Nancy,  74  ;  Mrs.  H ,  74  ; 

112 ;  a  wine-merchant,  115  ;  a  pedlar, 
115  ;  a  pedlar,  126  :  a  lawyer,  137, 
141,  143,  149  ;  a  blacksmith,  141  ;  a 
Vermont  man,  142  :  a  dentist,  143, 
152  ;  a  Baptist  preacher,  144  ;  Joe, 
144  ;  a  fat  woman,  152  ;  a  seasible 
man,  153  ;  153 ;  a  doctor,  153 ;  - ,  wid 
ower,  154 ;  a  pedlar,  157,  158,  187 ;  a 
wrestler,  160  ;  an  invalid  162 ;  162 ;  a 
young  clergyman,  163,  164  ;  students, 
163, 164 ;  a  giant,  164  ;  an  Englishman, 
166  ;  proprietor  of  a  caravan,  167,  168 ; 
171 ;  a  Methodist,  169  ;  171 ;  an  Indian, 
171  ;  a  commissioner,  174  ;  a  squire, 
174  ;  a  tramp,  178  ;  a  Dutchman,  179 ; 
a  newspaper  agent,  186  ;  an  old  man 
astray,  187  ;  a  horse-jockey,  188  ;  188 ; 
a  woodchopper,  190  :  Uncle  Johnt 
190 ;  a  snake-tamer,  192 ;  a  coxcomb, 
195 ;  an  engineer,  195 ;  a  tavern-keep 
er,  200  ;  a  blind  man,  202 ;  an  opium- 
eater,  203 ;  a  deaf  nsm,  203 ;  a  negro 
traveller,  203  ;  an  intriguer,  205  :  a 
false  man,  205  ;  a  little  sailor,  220  ; 
Mr.  Dismal  View,  230,  231  ;  a  seam 
stress,  259  ;  a  yeoman,  303  :  a  schol 
arly  farmer,  311 ;  a  parson,  316 ;  a  wan 
dering  woman,  317  ;  an  original,  321 ; 
a  ragamuffin,  376 ;  an  artist,  378,  360  ; 
a  Frenchman,  380  ;  a  groom,  385 ;  ok! 
acquaintances,  389 ;  commander  Of  a 
rsssdU  289  ;  a  skipper,  433,  434. 


INDEX. 


449 


Charlemont,  163, 182. 

Charles  IX.,  124. 

Charles,  the  river,  261,  265. 

Cheever,  Master,  238. 

Cherubs,  204. 

Childless  people,  38. 

Children,  38  ;  reminiscences,  38 ;  Irish, 
61 ;  in  the  woods,  70  ;  asleep,  77  ;  run 
ning,  78 ;  Joe,  144 ;  204  ;  blind,  205  ; 
a  little  sailor,  220  ;  babies,  362,  382, 
383,  407  ;  393,  397  ;  murdered,  419. 

Children's  sayings,  392,  393,  397,  407. 

Chimney-sweeper,  a,  215. 

Chimney-sweeping,  41. 

Chinese  architecture,  30. 

Christ,  pictures  of,  373,  379. 

Christian,  3G,  219. 

Christianity,  72. 

Church-bells,  24. 

Cider,  408. 

Cilley,  Mr.,  90,  91. 

Circe's  Palace,  444. 

Cistern,  a,  285,  286. 

City  Tavern,  17. 

City  views,  377,  386,  388. 

Clare,  Lord  Chancellor,  40. 

Clarke,  Sarah,  221. 

Classification,  a  new,  34. 

Classmate,  a,  75. 

Clearing,  a,  189. 

Clergymen,  111,  163,  164,  228,316. 

Clouds,  109,  214. 

Coal,  214,  215,  217,  219, 224. 

Coffin,  a,  171. 

Cold,  a,  231. 

Cold  Spring,  15,  16,  96. 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  28. 

Colton,  Commodore,  89. 

Columbus,  the,  92. 

Combe's  Physiology,  282. 

Comedian,  a,  111. 

Comet,  the,  25. 

Commander  of  a  vessel,  389. 

Commencement,  158. 

Commissioners,  county,  173,  174. 

Common,  the,  218. 

Communion  of  spirit,  224. 

Compensations,  34. 

Complaints,  a  dream  of,  26,  36. 

Compliments,  166. 

Concord,  283,  288,  290,  306,  410,  444. 

Concord  Railroad,  368. 

Concord  River,  286,  287,  289,  309,  319, 
321,  322,  339,  343. 

Coney  Island,  122. 

Confessor,  a,  279. 

Connecticut,  201. 

Constantine,  Emperor,  40. 

Constitution,  the,  93. 

Contributions  to  one  end,  108. 

Cooking,  363,  308. 

Copinger,  Mr.,  41. 

Copyrights,  240,  243. 

Corn,  202. 

Cornell,  123. 


Court  Square,  37£ 
VOL.  IX. 


Cow  Island,  246,  200,  263. 

Cows,  227,  228,  229,  246,  247,  250,  285, 

Coxcomb,  a,  195. 

Craft,  75. 

Crime,  secret,  210,  273 ;  without  sense  ol 

guilt,  273. 

Cromwell,  Oliver,  88. 
Crows,  137,  264,  30G,  346. 
Crucifixion,  the,  419. 
Cupid,  445. 
Cures,  two,  274. 
Curse  of  Kehama,  The,  122. 
Curtis,  George,  368. 
Custom  House,   215,  216,  217,  221,  22& 

234,235. 
Customs,  28. 

Cutts,  Lady  Ursula,  277,  278. 
Cutts,  Lord  Thomas,  277. 
Cutts,  Madam,  279. 
Cutts,  Major,  279. 
Cutts,  President,  278. 
Cyane,  the,  113. 

Dana,  Frank,  251. 

Danvers,  31,  410. 

Dark  Laue,  31. 

Dead,  appearance  of  the,  110,  283. 

Deaf  man,  a,  203. 

Death,  33,  35,  36,  37 ;  by  a  cannon 
shot,  93  ;  impending,  105  ;  bells  toll 
ing,  190  ;  204,  207  ;  in  an  attempt  at 
perfection,  210  ;  212,  221  ;  of  a  worker, 
273  ;  deceived,  275 ;  308,  359,  396, 407, 
445. 

Declaration  of  Independence,  66. 

Dedham,  255. 

Deerfield  River,  181. 

Deformity,  201. 

Deism,  72. 

Democratic  Review,  342. 

Dentist,  a,  143. 

Depression,  22,  28. 

Dial,  The,  319,  332,  339. 

Dialogues,  209,  283. 

Diorama,  a,  44,  179. 

Directions  for  a  Candidate,  396. 

Diseases,  personified,  89  ;  282  ;  imagine 
ry,  283  ;  moral,  283. 

Dish-washing,  364. 

Dismal  View,  Mr.,  230,  231. 

Distrust,  86. 

Divorce,  89. 

"Doctor,  the,"  72. 

Dogs,  140,  145,  151,  1C6,  178,  180,  200, 
281,  285. 

Don  Frederick,  206. 

Don  John,  206. 

Dover  Point,  419. 

Downes,  Commodore,  92. 

Dragon's  Teeth,  The,  444. 

Dreams,  waking  from,  33  ;  life  a  dream, 
87  ;  of  old  age,  207  ;  429. 

Dress,  277. 

Drinking,  375,  389. 

Drowned,  the,  204;    a  school  - 
419. 


450 


INDEX. 


Drunkenness,  162. 

Duck  Island,  423,  439. 

Duels,  108,  274. 

Dumbness,  226. 

Dundry,  33. 

Dundry,  church  of,  33. 

Du  Pont,  Monsieur,  59. 

Dutchman,  a,  179. 

Duyckinck,  Mr.  (of  New  York),  391. 

Eagles,  31. 

Earth-worms,  288. 

East-wind,  221,  222. 

Eating,  342,  303,  304,  365,  366,  374. 

Echo,  106. 

Edge  Hill,  39. 

Editor,  an,  112. 

Egyptian  architecture,  30. 

Ejectment,  61. 

Elephants,  30,  193,  195. 

Elevation,  214. 

Eliot,  John,  232. 

Elliott,  Commodore,  92. 

Emerson,  Mr.  (of  Staten  Island),  332. 

Emerson,   Ralph  Waldo,  252,  284,  303, 

305,  308,  316,  325,  334,  343,  368,  385. 
Emerson,  William,  293,  295.  396. 
Emotions,  a  woman  without,  109. 
Enchanted  rocks,  185. 
Endicott,  John,  88. 
Ends,  107. 
Enemies,  23. 
Engineer,  an,  195. 
English,  Philip,  88,  94. 
Englishman,  an,  166. 
Enoch,  283. 
Enterprise,  the,  92. 
Essex  Historical  Society,  87. 
Estate,  an,  409. 
Evenings,  225. 
Events,  36. 

Expectations,  mistaken,  43. 
Experience,  37. 

F ,  Dr.  L.,  364. 

F ,  Lieutenant,  108. 

F ,  Mr.,  366,  367,  368. 

Face  in  the  rock,  a,  210. 

Faces,  18. 

Factories,  134. 

Faerie  Queene,  222. 

False  hair,  275. 

False  man,  a,  205. 

Fame,  10,  32,  37,  42,  335. 

Familiar  spirits,  209. 

Families,  old,  88. 

Family  mansion,  the,  10,  222. 

Fancy  pictures,  281. 

Fanny  Ellsler,  the,   416,  421,  430,  434, 

441,  443. 

Farley,  Mr.,  228,  230,  232,  234. 
Farmer,  a  scholarly,  311. 
Farm-houses,  245,  258. 
Farming.      See    Agriculture,    Gardens, 

and  Work. 
Fat  men,  386. 
Fate,  book  of,  283. 


Fate  foreshadowed,  28. 

Faust,  pen  of,  395. 

Field,  Miss  Jenny,  391. 

Field,  Mr.  (of  Stockbridge),  39L 

Fields,  J.  T.,  9,  374,  391. 

Fields,  Mrs.  J.  T.,  391, 

Fire,  44,  445. 

Fire-flies,  206. 

Fish,  282,  288  ;  a  shark,  424. 

Five  Points,  273. 

Flint,  John,  326,  333. 

Flirtation,  80. 

Florence,  395. 

Flowers,  from  graves,  39;  71,  233,  234; 

gentians,  272,  326,  328  ;  violets,  275 ; 

lilies,   286,   301  ;    287,  302  ;   cardinal.' 

flowers,  302  :  353  ;  the  Arethusa,  354  • 

394  ;  Houstonias,  405  ;   405,  406,  401% 

433. 

Fogs,  84,  130,  151,  394,  429,  435. 
Folsom,  Mr.,  370,  371. 
Foresight  of  events,  273. 
Forests,  175,  305. 
Fort,  an  ancient,  81,  83. 
Fortune,  35. 

Fortune,  digging  for,  27. 
Fount  of  Tears,  395. 
Fountains,  37. 

Fourier,  Francois,  M.  C.,  407. 
Fourth  of  July,  116. 
Fowler  (an  officer),  277,  278. 
Fox,  Rev.  Mr.,  336. 
Fox,  Charles  James,  41. 
Foxes,  30. 
Frankness,  275. 
Fredonia,  106. 
French  people,  the,  71. 
Frenchmen,  45,  50,  380. 
Friend,  a  perfidious,  207. 
Frog,  a,  in  the  stomach,  396. 
Frog  Pond,  the,  280. 
Frost,  351. 
Fruit,  294,  295,  296,  309,  311,  357,  378, 

390.    See  Apples,  Butternuts,  Grapes, 

and  an  Orchard. 
Fuller,  Margaret,  225,  227,  228,  229,  252, 

oUOj  307  9  334,  339. 
Funerals,  23,  24,  37,  38  ;  a  child's,  153  ; 

a  boy's,  176  ;  342. 
Furness,  Mr.,  418. 
Furniture,  old,  291,  292. 

Galliard  (of  Guernsey),  274. 

Gallows,  the,  211. 

Gardens,  297,  300,  351,  352,  355,  356, 

425.    See  Agriculture  and  Work. 
Gardiner,  55. 
Gas,  a  spring  of,  106. 
Gas-pipe,  a,  106. 
Gavett,  Captain,  158, 
Generosity,  394. 
Genius,  and  Stupidity,  27  :  28. 
Gentians,  272,  326,  328. 
Gentlemen,  Sunday,  17. 
Germans,  71. 
Ghosts,  knockings  of,  24 ;  by  moonlight. 

26 ;  292,  293, 333,  336,  416, 428,  438,  441. 


INDEX. 


451 


Giant,  a,  164. 

Gibbs  (pirate),  122. 

Gnomes,  106. 

Goddard,  Joseph,  267. 

Golden  Fleece,  The,  444. 

Good  deeds  in  an  evil  life,  43. 

Good  in  profusion  a  pest,  27. 

Gordier  (of  Guernsey),  274. 

Gorges,  Sir  Ferdinando,  278. 

Gosport,   414,    418,    419,    441  ;   Church 

Records,  444. 
Gothic  architecture,  30. 
Gowans,  Stephen,  39. 
Grandfather's  Chair,  243. 
Grandfather's  Library,  241-243. 
Grapes,  242,  246,  263,  378. 
Gratitude,  357. 
Graves,  24  ;  flowers  on,  39  ;  41,  208  ;  of 

an  enemy,  410. 
Graylock,   133,  136,   155,   165,  172,  177, 

178,  181,  188,  194,  198,  306. 
Great  men,  381. 
Greek  architecture,  30. 
Greeks,  397. 

Green  Mountains,  163,  178,  181. 
Greene,  Gardiner,  18. 
Greenfield,  154. 
Greenland,  N.  H.,  410. 
Griffin,  President,  134. 
Grondale  Abbey,  277. 
Groom,  a,  385. 
Guernsey,  274. 
Guilford  Court  House,  44. 
Gulls,  346. 

H ,  Captain,  74. 

H ,  E.,  93,  284,  305. 

H ,  F.,  212. 

H ,  H.,  205. 

H ,  Hon.  John,  81. 

H ,  L.,  207. 

H Lawyer,  137,  141,  143,  149. 

H ,  Mrs.,  74. 

Hair-dressing,  39. 

Hale,  Mrs.,  363,  366. 

Haley  family,  the,  432. 

Haley,  Mr.,  434. 

Hall,  Colonel,  221, 361. 

Hallowell,  55. 

Hamilton,  410. 

Hamilton,  the,  90. 

Hampton,  421. 

Hancock,  Thomas,  396. 

Hand,  an  ice-cold,  280. 

Hand  of  Destiny,  180. 

Hand-organ,  a,  173. 

Hansley  (pirate),  122. 

Happiness,  destroyed  by  one's  self,  124 ; 

search  for,  209  ;  283,  300,  301,  331,  355, 

409. 

Harris,  Dr.,  275. 
Harvard,  325. 
Hatch,  Mr.,  419,  420. 
Hathorne,  Colonel  John,  118. 
Hawion,  Gen.,  44. 
Hawthorne,  Ebon,  372. 
Hawthorne,  family  of,  33,  86,  93-95. 


Hawthorne,  Hugh,  86, 

Hawthorne,  John,  94. 

Hawthorne,  Julian,  392,  404. 

Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  biography,  5 
Note-Books,  5  ;  criticisms,  8. 

Hawthorne,  Mrs.  Nathaniel,  5. 

Hawthorne,  Una,  354,  362,  398,  404. 

Hawthorne,  William,  86. 

Hayward,  Mr.,  367. 

Hazard,  Lieutenant,  113. 

Headley,  J.  T.,  391. 

Heads  falling  simultaneously,  27. 

Heart,  journal  of  a,  86. 

Heaven,  107  ;  friends  in,  207  208  ;  meefr 
ing  in,  212  ;  244,  302. 

Hebrew  Bible,  a,  203. 

Hedge,  Mr.,  368. 

Hedges,  40. 

Hemans,  Mrs.,  72. 

Hens,  299,  390. 

Herbert  Street,  Salem,  10. 

Heroes,  381. 

Heterogeny,  a,  158. 

Hildreth,  Richard,  370. 

HildretVs  History  of  the  United  States. 
370. 

Hillard,  George,  243,  303,  304,  355,  361. 

Hillard,  Mrs.  George,  355. 

Hints  for  characters.     See  Characters. 

Hints  for  Sketches.  See  Hints  for  Stories. 

Hints  for  Stories  :  bringing  on  a  war,  19  ; 
an  insane  reformer,  20  ;  a  lover  of  sick- 
chambers,  21  ;  an  unsuspected  cause 
of  disaster,  21  ;  a  hero  who  never  falls 
in  love,  22  ;  in  the  light  of  a  street  lan 
tern,  22  ;  disenchantment  in  love,  22 ; 
enemies  by  mistake,  23  ;  wills  made  in 
each  other's  favor,  23 ;  a  hard-hearted 
man,  24  ;  renewed  youth,  24  ;  myste 
rious  knocking,  24 ;  a  petrified  body, 
24 ;  love,  a  spirit  of  mischief,  25  ; 
thronged  solitude,  25 ;  buried  treas 
ure,  25 ;  a  staff  taking  root,  25  ;  chain 
and  padlock,  26  ;  a  magical  book,  26  ; 
a  ghost  by  moonlight,  26  ;  scold  and 
blockhead,  26 ;  reflection  in  a  mirror, 
26 ;  a  dream  of  complaints,  26  ;  a 
brotherhood  of  the  unlike,  '11 ;  unsus 
pected  influence,  27  ;  good  desired  a 
pest,  27  ;  digging  for  a  fortune,  27 ; 
one  event  in  several  places,  27  ;  life  in 
instalments,  27  ;  an  unforeseen  catas 
trophe,  28;  the  worldly  in  Paradise, 
29 ;  a  council  of  passengers,  32 ;  a 
Thanksgiving  dinner,  32  ;  a  new  Adam 
and  Eve,  33  ;  a  snake  a  type  of  envy, 
34  ;  imperfect  compensations,  34  ;  a 
fancy  ball,  34 ;  wasted  sunshine,  34  ; 
a  new  classification,  34  ;  fortune  as  a 
pedlar,  35 ;  people  wearing  masks,  35 ; 
ruin  under  various  guises,  36  ;  events 
of  the  day,  36 ;  measuring  time  bj 
eunshine,  36 :  building  a  pleasure- 
house,  37  ;  a  child's  reminiscences,  38-, 
a  vicious  person  among  the  virtuous, 
38  ;  temptations  of  the  Devil,  38 ;  a 
lover  buried  in  a  flower-garden,  39 ;  « 


452 


INDEX. 


magic  lantern,  39  ;  a  city  missionary's 
labors,  40 ;  money  for  a  breach  oi 
promise  by  instalments,  41  ;  publish 
ments  arranged,  42 ;  Sunday-schools, 
42 ;  United  States  government  repre 
sented,  42 ;  a  statue  of  snow,  42  ;  a 
body  possessed  by  two  spirits,  42 ;  a 
servant  who  cannot  be  turned  away, 
43  ;  mistaken  expectations,  43 ;  latent 
evil  roused  by  circumstances,  43;"gbod 
deeds  in  im  ?vil  life,  43  ;  an  imaginary 
mulieHInpIS  ;  rum  personified,  44  ;  fire, 
smoke,  die-eases  of  mind,  44 ;  happi 
ness  close  at  hand,  8G ;  journal  of  a 
heart,  8G  ;  distrust,  80  ;  life  seeming 
a  dream,  87  ;  sunshine  passing  from 
object  to  object,  — to  the  churchyard, 
87  ;  an  idle  man  on  the  sea-shore,  87  ; 
a  blind  man  and  his  guides,  87  ;  dis 
eases  personified,  89  ;  married  people 
finding  themselves  free  to  separate, 
89 ;  effect  of  altered  conditions  on 
character,  98  ;  stories  of  the  tiles,  105 ; 
last  visics  of  a  dying  person,  105  ;  life 
in  hotels  and  taverns,  105  ;  bettering 
perfection,  106 ;  attempting  the  im 
possible,  10(5 ;  scenes  lighted  by  a  gas- 
pipe,  106  ;  chasing  Echo,  10G  ;  a  spring 
of  gas,  10G  ;  gnomes  biyrowing  in  teeth, 
106  ;  men  withoutlfope,  107  ;  sorrow 
personified,  107  :**zll  wronged  and 
wrongers,  107  ;  winds  personified,  107; 
living  two  lives,  107  ;  a  poisoned  or 
nament,  107  ;  a  potion  poisonous  ac 
cording  to  character,  108 ;  many  con 
tributing  to  one  end,  1C8  ;  a  jewel  un 
expectedly  feu  11*1,  109;  poison  in  the 
sacrament,  109  ;  return  of  images  in  a 
mirror,  109 ;  a  woman  without  emo 
tions,  109  ;  two  portraits,  109  ;  ruiped 
in  jest,  110 :  a  sealed  letter,  HOY  an 
insane  belief  in  greatness,  110;  a 
dreadful  secret,  110;  appearance  of 
the  dead,  110  ;  insanity  from  another's 
influence,  110  ;  a  girl  and  her  different 
lovers,  110  ;  a  man  completely  in  an 
other's  power,  113  :  a  miser's  punish 
ment,  122;  happiness  destroyed  by 
one's  self,  124;  burning  of  maskers,  124; 
getting  out  of  ore's  self,  125  :  a  steam- 
engine  possessed,  149 :  the  drowned 
rising,  204  ;  history  of  a  lake,  204 ; 
success  a  penance,  205 :  lighting  fire 
with  fire-flies,  200  :  dreaming  a  friend 
an  enemy,  207  :  Pandora's  box,  207- c 
dreaming  of  old  age,  207 ;  a  family 
newspaper,  207  :  close  observation  by 
a  stranger,  208  ;  the  point  of  view, 
208;  the  search  for  happiness,  209; 
dialogues  of  the  unborn,  209  ;  taking 
the  family  lineaments,  209  ;  a  fire  on 
Ararat,  210 :  ice  in  the  blood,  210 ; 
the  Salamander,  the  Phoenix,  210 ;  a 
face  in  the  rock,  210  ;  death  in  raising 
one  beloved  to  perfection,  210  ;  prayer 
for  one  tempted,  210 ;  a  secret  thing 
in  public,  210  ;  a  scarecrow,  211 ;  a 


coroner's  inquest,  211 ;  life  spent  on  a 
trifle,  211  ;  burning  the  gallows,  211 ; 
a  talisman  within,  212  ;  a  shadowy 
pageant,  212 ;  subjection  to  a  stronger 
will,  272  ;  influence  of  secret  crime, 
273  ;  crime  without  sense  of  guilt,  273 ; 
strangeness  of  future  events,  273 ;  a 
snake  a  symbol  of  cherished  sin,  274  •, 
a  mesmerized  person  questioned,  274  ; 
a  prophecy  in  Swift's  style.  275 ;  a 
father  confessor's  reflections,  279  ;  an 
ice-cold  hand,  280 ;  fancy  pictures  of 
unvisited  places,  281 ;  historical  char 
acters  reappearing,  282;  moral,  sym 
bolized  by  physical,  disease,  282  :  dia 
logues  of  the  dead,  283;  imaginary 
diseases  and  impossible  remedies,  283  ; 
a  physician  for  moral  diseases,  283  ; 
moral  slavery,  283 ;  a  leaf  from  the 
bock  of  fate,  283 ;  a  bloody  foot-print, 
395;  witch- like  malignity,  395;  the 
Fount  of  Tears,  395 ;  newspaper  ad 
vertisements,  396  ;  an  eating  -  house 
with  poisoned  dishes,  396  ;  the  cen 
tury  personified,  396 ;  voyage  of  a 
child's  boat,  403. 

History,  Habits,  and  Instincts  of  Animals, 
30. 

Hodge,  the  Blacksmith,  141,  142. 

Hodge,  Otis,  174. 

Hodges,  John,  170. 

Hog  Island,  423,  428,  434,  441,  442. 

Holinshed,  Raphael,  31. 

Holmes,  Dr.,  391. 

Home,  291,  326,  329,  336. 

Hoosic  Mountains,  163,  179. 

Hope,  107. 

Horse-jockey,  188. 

Horses,  199. 

Hosmer,  Mr.  286. 

Hospitality,  303. 

Hotels,  Maverick,  16  ;  Mechanics,  17 ; 
City  Tavern,  17  ;  Rice's,  18  :  Mansion 
House,  52,  57  ;  a  story  of,  105  ;  life  in, 
111  ;  112  ;  Tremont  House,  115  :  Tem 
perance  House,  125;  Berkshire,  130  ; 
131 :  North  Adams  House,  143  ;  Loigh- 
ton's,  411,423;  on  Smutty  Nose  Isl- 
and,  433. 

Houses,  old,  24  ;  English,  31 ;  57,  99,  10Q 
258,  266,  439. 

Howes,  George,  3C2. 

Howes,  Mr.,  362. 

Hudson,  Henry,  146. 

Hudson's  Brook.  156,  165. 

Hudson's  Cave,  146,  15G,  164,  175. 

Hudson's  Falls,  146. 

Hull,  Isaac,  92. 

Hunt.  Leigh,  282. 

Hutchinson,  Mr.,  240. 

Hyena,  a,  193. 

— ,  S.,  95. 
Ideas,  37. 

Imagination,  22,  245. 
Imitators,  402. 
Immortality,  357. 


INDEX. 


453 


Impertinence,  125. 

Importance,  individual,  32. 

Impossibilities,  attempting,  106. 

Improving  perfection,  10G. 

Indian  Summer,  320,  327. 

Indians,  100,  171,  318,  320. 

Individual  importance,  32. 

Influence,  unsuspected,  27. 

Ingersol,  Miss,  20G. 

Inquest,  a  coroner'^,  211 

Insects  :  fireflies,   200  ;  butterflies,  224  ; 

wasps,   231  ;   264  ;    mosquitoes,    272  ; 

bees,  275,  299  ;  288,  352,  390. 
Insincerity,  107. 
Intriguer,  an,  205. 
Introductory  Note,  5. 
Invalidism,  62,  427. 
Ipswich,  10,  19. 
Irish,  53,  56,  57,  60,  64,  77;   shanties, 

359. 

Islands,  90. 
Isles  of  Shoals,  410-444. 

Jack  the  Giant-Killer,  381. 

Jackson,  Andrew,  44. 

Jail,  the,  14. 

Jamaica  Plain,  266. 

Jaques,  Doctor,  115. 

Jenkins,  Mr.,  of  Amherst,  186. 

Jests  becoming  earnest,  21. 

Jewel,  a  famous,  109. 

Je.vett,  Ellen,  123. 

Jewish  ad.xge,  31. 

Joe,  144. 

Johnson,  Dr.,  205. 

Jos<§,  253. 

Josephine,  Empress,  66. 

Journals,  6. 

Juniper,  the,  13,  85. 

Justice,  394. 

Justice  Shallow,  295. 

Kennebec.  the  River,  47,  55,  63,  67. 

Kidd,  Captain,  416. 
King's  Chapel,  20. 
Kirby,  Rev.  William,  30. 
Kittery,  278. 

Knights  of  the  Round  Table,  59. 
Knock-down  money,  143. 
Knox,  General,  80,  276. 
Knox,  Lady,  82,  276. 

Labor.   See  Agriculture,   Gardens,   and 

Work. 

Ladislaus,  King  of  Naples,  395. 
Ladurlad,  122. 
Laighton,  Mr.,  411,  412,  416,   421,   422, 

423,  429,  430,  431,  434,  438,  442,  443. 
Laighton,  Oscar,  424, 
Laighton's  Hotel,  411,  423. 
Lakes,  204,  393,  408. 
Lamp,  a,  22. 

Landing  of  the  Pilgrims,  72. 
Landscape.    See  Scenery. 
Language,  390. 
languages,  foreign,  27. 
Lapland,  279. 


Latent  evil,  43. 

Laughter,  161. 

Lawyer,  a  degraded,  137   141, 143,  149. 

Leach,  Mr.,  178,  179,  185,  186,  195. 

Learning,  275. 

Lectures,  225. 

Leith,  41. 

Lenore,  332. 

Lenox,  409. 

Leo,  363,  3G5,  366,  367. 

Letter,  a  sealed,  110. 

Letters,  changing,  208  ;  extracts  from, 
213,  338,  445. 

Leverett,  Governor,  87,  88. 

Liberty  Tree,  239,  240. 

Life,  in  instalments,  27,  72  ;  a  double, 
107  ;  a  burden,  213 ;  222  ;  embroid 
ered,  279 ;  355  ;  in  the  rough,  381-384. 

Light  literature,  effect  of,  22. 

Light-house,  a,  425. 

Lightning-rod,  397. 

Likeness,  a,  212. 

Lilly,  William,  209. 

Lime-kilns,  195. 

Lion,  a,  193. 

Litchfield,  201. 

Literary  work,  236,  241,  242,  330,  333, 
337  ;  in  summer,  355  ;  372. 

Lockport,  106. 

London,  276. 

London  Metropolitan,  374. 

London  newspaper,  a,  33. 

Londoner's  Rock,  426,  441. 

Longfellow,  H.  W.,  331,  361,  363. 

Longfellow,  Mrs.  H.  W.,  363. 

Loon,  a,  435. 

Lord,  Miss  Hannah,  19. 

Loudon,  Earl  of,  239. 

Louis  le  DtSbonnaire,  40. 

Louisbourg,  88. 

Love,  22  ;  a  spirit  of  mischief,  25 ; 
earthly,  25  ;  212,  445. 

Love-att'airs,  144. 

Lovers,  of  a  beautiful  girl,  110  ;  in  a 
stage,  132. 

Lowell,  J.  R.,  392. 

Lowell,  Mrs.  J.  R.,  392. 

Lucas,  253. 

Lunatic  Asylum,  206. 

Lyndes,  the,  119. 

M ,  331. 

Macedonian,  the,  92,  93. 

Machinery,  142. 

Madness,  54, 110  ;  from  outside  influence, 

110  ;  a  leap  in,  195  :   236  :   produced, 

282. 

Magic,  book  of,  26. 
Magic-lantern,  39. 
Magnolia,  118. 
Magnet,  a,  210. 
Magnetism,  72, 244.    See  Mesmerism  an4 

Spiritualism. 
Maine,  45,  67. 
Mainiacs,  the,  57. 
Malaga,  434. 
Malignity  of  a  witch,  395. 


454 


INDEX. 


Man  a  brute,  34. 

Man  and  Nature,  97.  V 

Man  of  Adamant.  The,  239. 

Mankind,  282. 

Manse,  the  old,  283,  290,  291,  336,  363, 
396. 

Mansfield,  Mr.,  391. 

Mansion  House,  52,  57. 

Mansion  House,  old,  88. 

Manual  Labor  School,  89. 

Marble,  131,  146,  149,  15G,  195. 

Marblehead,  120,  121. 

Marriage,  72 ;  dissolved,   89  ;  190.      See 
Matrimony. 

Martha,  Miss,  366. 

Mary,  Bloody,  42. 

Masks,  35. 

Mather,  Rev.  Cotton,  118,  238,  412. 

Mather,  Nathaniel,  118. 

Mather's  Manduction  and  Ministerium, 
396. 

Matrimony,  300.    See  Marriage. 

Matthews,  Cornelius,  391. 

Maverick  House,  16. 

Maxims.    See  Precepts. 

May,  219. 

May-day,  233. 

Measure  for  Measure,  212. 

"  Mechanics,  The  "  17. 

Melrose  Abbey,  372. 

Melville,  Herman,  391. 

Melville,  Mr.  (Junior),  391. 

Merchant,  a,  115. 

Merrimack,  the,  321,  370. 

Merry,  33. 

Mesmerism,  274.     See  Magnetism  and 
Spiritualism. 

Methodist,  a,  169. 

Milton,  267. 

Milton,  John,  299. 

Mind,  diseases  of,  44,  54.    ^ 

Mineral  Spring,  97. 

Minister's  Slack  Veil,  the,  63. 

Minotaur,  The,  444. 

Minot's  Light,  423 

Miroir,  Monsieur  du,  239. 
•  Mirror,  reflection  in,  26  ;  images  in,  109. 

Mirth,  62. 

Miser,  a,  122. 

V  Miserable,  the,  a  dream  of,  26. 
v^  Misfortune  elevating,  396. 

Missionary,  a,  40. 

Mistakes,  27. 

Mists.    See  Fogs. 

Mohun,  Lady,  274. 

Mohun,  Lord.  274 

Molly,  the  cook,  333,  338. 

Monadnock,  181. 

Monkey,  a,  116. 

Montreux,  274. 

Monument  Mountain,  391,  393,  394,  399, 
402,  406. 

Monuments,    212,    397  ;    Captain   John 

Smith's,  412,  422,  439. 
Moonlight,  207,  308. 
Moore,  Thomas,  72. 
V   Morality,  59,  62. 


Morning,  75,  121,  177,  348. 

Mosses  from  an  Old  Manse,  9. 

Motto,  a,  275. 

Moulton,  Sheriff,  276. 

Mountains,  136,  146,  149,  155,  172,  174, 

177,  178,  181,  188,  193,  197,  208,  268, 

391,  392,  397,  402. 
Mowing,  68. 
Murder,  274. 
Murderers,  122. 
Museum,  an  imaginary,  43. 
Mushrooms,  57. 
Music-box,  a,  338. 
Musketaquid,  320. 
Mystery,  219. 

N ,  C.,  334. 

Nahant,  18. 

Nancy,  74. 

Napoleon,  180. 

National  Theatre,  381. 

Natural  History,  93- 

Nature's  work,  97. 

Navy  Yard,  90. 

Negroes,  160,  203. 

Nelson,  Admiral,  180. 

Netherlands,  the,  40. 

New  Church,  the,  373. 

Newburyport,  321. 

Newcastle,  368. 

Newspaper  agent,  186  ;  a  family,  207  ; 

advertisements,  396. 
Newton,  266. 
Newton,  West,  409. 
Niagara  Falls,  106. 
Night,  128. 

North  Adams  House,  143. 
North  Branch,  164,  322, 343. 
North  River,  the,  23. 
Northfields,  95. 
Norwegian,  a,  411. 
Notch,  the,  172,  197. 
Note  Books,  English,  5,  69  ;  French  and 

Italian,    6  ;    first,    6  ;  American,    1  \ 

omissions,  11  ;  13. 

Oak  Hall,  382. 
Oak  Hill,  226. 
Ocean,  within  the  globe,  30,  84,  85,  JV» 

120  ;  saltness,  407  ;  428,  435,  441. 
Odd  people,  321. 
Office,  330. 
Officers,  naval,  116. 
Old  acquaintances,  389. 
Old  Bab,  416,  428,  441. 
Oliver,  Mr.,  239. 
Oliver,  Peter,  88. 
Olivers,  the,  88,  89. 
Opium-eater,  an,  203. 
Orange,  252. 

Orchards,  294.    See  Fruit. 
Organs,  40. 

Ornament,  poisoned,  107. 
O'Sullivan,  Mr.  (publisher),  337. 
Our  Old  Home,  9. 
Owls,  17,  426. 
Owl's  Head,  83, 


INDEX. 


455 


p Colonel,  119. 

P Dr.,  118,  119. 

P George,  365. 

P M.,  119. 

P Mrs.,  364,  3G5,  366,  3GT. 

P Rev.  E.,  205. 

Pageaut,  a,  '212. 

Painting,  207. 

Palo  Alto  hats,  382,  383. 

Pandora's  box,  207. 

Paradise,  worldly  people  in,  29. 

Pirk  Street  Church,  387. 

Parker's  eating-hall,  377. 

Parker's  grog-shop,  375,  377. 

Partridge,  275. 

Passion,  22,  110. 

Pasture,  a,  246. 

Paths,  271. 

Pedestrian  tour.,  a,  325. 

Pedlars,  126,  157,  158,  187. 

Penance,  legend,  20. 

Penobscot  Bay,  84. 

Pepin,  King,  40. 

Pepperell,  Andrew,  276. 

Pepperell  family,  276. 

Pepperell,  Lady,  275. 

Pepperell,  Sir  William,  87,  276,  412. 

Percival,  Captain,  90. 

Pergasus,  143. 

Perquisites,  143. 

Peter  Goldthwaite,  374. 

Peter's  path,  3C6. 

Petrified  bodies,  24. 

Phillips,  Mr.  (of  Boston),  125. 

Phillips's  Beach,  102. 

Phoenix,  the,  210. 

Physician,  a,  for  moral  diseases,  283. 

Picnic,  a,  251. 

Pictures,  of  an  at  tor,  45  ;  historical,  87, 
89;  109,  372,  373  ;  in  a  saloon,  376. 

Pierce,  Franklin,  410,  411,  418,  420. 

Pigs,  14,  20,  187,  VJGO.  250,  253,  297. 

Pilgrim's  Progress,  36. 

Pirates,  literary,  ."74. 

Piscataqua  River.  419. 

Pittsfield,  130. 

Platt  (driver),  199. 

Pleasure-house,  a.  37. 

Plymouth  pilgrims,  226. 

Poetry,  28. 

Poison,  according  to  character,  108 ;  in 
the  sacrament,  .1.09,  209  ;  in  a  handker 
chief,  395  ;  in  food,  396. 

Politicians,  215. 

Pomegranate  Seeds,  The,  444. 

Ponds,  304,  358. 

Pond-Lily,  the,  321,  322. 

Portraits,  372,  373. 

Portsmouth,  368,  420,  423. 

Possession  by  two  spirits,  42. 

Posterity,  212. 

Pot-holes,  184. 

Power,  one  man  in  another's,  113. 

Pownall,  195. 

Prayer,  30. 

Precepts,  28;  Jewish,  31. 


Pre-Raphaelitism,  415. 

Prescott,  George,  284,  363. 

Prescott,  Mrs.,  396. 

Prideaux,  Bishop  of  Worcester,  26. 

Prisoner,  a,  36. 

Proctor,  Mr.,  16. 

Prodigal  Son,  80. 

Prophecy,  a,  275. 

Prosperity,  179. 

Province  House,  110. 

Publishments,  42. 

Puddles,  208,  214. 

Pulpit  Rock,  271. 

Putnam,  Mr.  (justice  of  the  peace),  165. 

Pygmies,  The,  444. 

Pyncheou,  Governor,  88. 

Quaker,  letter  of  a,  9. 

R ,  D.,  326. 

Rabelais,  8,  327. 

Race,  a  new,  33. 

Ragamuffin,  a,  376. 

Raikes,  Robert,  42. 

Railroads,  3C9. 

Rain,  312. 

Rainbow,  a,  214. 

Randall  (tailor),  186. 

Randall  (wrestler),  160. 

Reappearances,  282. 

Rebellion,  a,  224. 

Rebellion,  the  Great,  30. 

Recluse,  a,  36. 

Reflection,  324. 

Reformer,  a  modern,  21. 

Rejoicing,  36. 

Relics,  88  ;  a  wine-glass,  206 ;  276,  277. 

Religion,  289,  290. 

Rensseluer  School,  184. 

Reserve,  335. 

Rest,  222. 

Resurrectionists,  154. 

Revenge,  41. 

Revolution,  the,  293. 

Revolutionary  pensioners,  190. 

Rice's  Hotel,  18. 

Rings,  282. 

Ripley,  Dr.  Ezra,  291,  294,  295,  348,  396. 

Ripley,  Mr.,  227,  228,  230,  236,  244,  351. 

Ripley,  Samuel,  396. 

Rivers,  23,  47,  60,  63,  70,  182,  265,  286, 

289,  290,  309,  319,  323,   324,  329  ;   in 

Spring,  339 ;  350. 
Road-making,  173. 
Robinson,  R.  P.,  123. 
Robinson's  Tavern,  66. 
Rocher  de  Caucale,  71. 
Rocks  rent,  419. 
Rogers,  Rev.  Nathaniel,  19. 
Ruin,  36,  44  ;  in  jest,  110. 
Russell,  Mary  Ann,  72. 
Rye  Beach,  421,  423,  430. 

S ,  Miss  A.,  354. 

S ,  Mrs.  F.,  354. 

S ,  Monsieur,  45,  50,  56,  58,  62,  71, 7& 

S ,  Orrin  E.,  154,  167,  168,  176,  19C. 


456 


INDEX. 


Sabbath,  171. 

Sacrament,  the,  40 ;  poison  in,  109. 

Saddle  Mountain,  1G5,  172, 190,  197. 

Saddleback,  133,  174,  178,  188,  195,  198. 

Sadness  of  the  world,  21. 

Salamanders,  210,  395. 

Salem,  13,  28,  32,  85,  98 ;  house  in,  20G  ; 
234,  331,  334. 

Salem,  North,  walk  in,  14. 

Salt,  224. 

Samphire,  15. 

Sarah,  the  cook,  300. 

"  Satan,"  119,  273. 

Satire,  124,  395. 

Saurians,  30. 

Scarecrow,  a,  211. 
(JScarlet  Let.er,  The,  9,  374. 

Scenery.  See  Afternoon,  Autumn, 
Brooks,  a  Clearing,  Clouds,  Fogs,  For 
ests,  Indian  Summer,  Lakes,  Maine, 
Morning,  Mountains,  Night,  Ocean,  a 
Pasture,  Ponds,  a  Rainbow,  Rivers, 
Sea-shore,  Spring,  Storms,  Summer, 
Sunrise,  Sunset,  Sunshine,  Twilight, 
and  Winter. 

School-mistress,  a,  282. 

Scold  and  blockhead,  2G. 

Scott,  Captain,  91,92,  93. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  372. 

Scott's  pond,  408. 

Scrap-books,  8, 

Sculpture,  207. 

Sea.    See  Ocean. 

Sea-captain,  an,  43. 

Sea-shore,  13,  28  ;  an  idle  man  on,  87  ; 
90,  102,  119. 

Seamstress,  a,  259. 

Seclusion,  122. 

Secret,  a  dreadful,  110. 

Secret  thing,  a,  in  a  public  place,  210. 

Sedgewick,  Henry,  391. 

Seeing  one's  self,  125. 

Selfishness,  212. 

Sensualists,  pigs,  14. 

Servant,  a,  not  to  be  turned  away,  43. 

Sewall,  Judge,  276. 

Shaker  Bridal,  374. 

Shaker  village,  325. 

Shakers,  14. 

Shark,  a,  424. 

Sheep,  150,  200. 

Shelburne  Falls,  163,  178,  183,  185. 

Shells,  40. 

Ships,  29,  90,  113 ;  coal,  214,  226  ;  toy, 
280;  passengers,  410,  426, 427;  wrecked, 
428 ;  431,  432,  434. 

Shirley,  Governor,  238  ;  his  wife,  240. 

Siamese  twins,  123. 

Sigourney,  Mrs.  L.  H.,  28. 

Sketches,  him  for.  See  Hints  for  Sto 
ries. 

Skipper,  a,  433,  434. 

Slade,  Ellen,  234. 

Slavery,  33,  160,  201,  203 ;  moral,  283. 

Sleep,  55. 

Sleepy  Hollow,  307,  328. 

Smiles,  212,  397. 


Smith,  Captain  John,  39,  412,  422,  439. 

Smoke,  21,  44 ;  peat,  98. 

Smutty  Nose   Island,  423,  431,  434,  436, 

439,  441,  442. 
Snake,  a  type  of  envy,  34  ;  a  symbol  of 

sin,  274. 

Snakes,  191,  421,  445. 
Snake-tamer,  192. 
Snapper,  151. 

Snow's  History  of  Boston,  239. 
Society,  38. 

Solitude,  thronged,  25  ;  38,  331-344 
Solomon,  272. 

Sorrow,  36  ;  ^personified,  107. 
Souls.  217,  289,  290. 
Sparhawk,  Colonel,  276. 
Sparhawk  portraits,  277. 
Syarhawk  property,  276. 
Soarrows,  211. 
Spendthrift,  a,  282. 
Spirits,  two  in  one  body,  42. 
Spiritual  bodies,  224. 
Spiritualism,  244.    See  Magnetism  and 

Mesmerism. 

Spring,  344,  348,  400,  401,  403,  405,  406. 
Spy,  the,  417,  418,  423,  430. 
Square  Rock,  435. 
Squire,  a,  174. 
Squirrel,  a,  270. 
Stable,  a,  384. 
Stages,  67 ;    passengers,   126,  129,   132, 

152  ;  drivers,  127,  128,  133. 
Star  Island,  413,  423,  433,  434,  436,  439, 

441. 

Stars,  394. 

Station-house,  a,  369. 
Statue  of  snow,  42. 
Stealing,  165. 
Steamboats,  56. 

Steam-engines,  77  ;  possessed,  149. 
Steeples,  37. 

Stewart,  Rear-Admiral  Charles,  92. 
Stockbridge,  391. 

Stories,  Hints  for.    See  Hints  for  Sto 
ries. 

Storms,  131,  151. 
Stoves,  280,  328. 
Street-lantern,  a,  22. 
Strong  (murderer),  123. 
Stuart,  Lord  James,  39. 
Stuart.  Professor,  83. 
Students,  1G3,  164,  185. 
Studley  Castle,  31. 
Study,  effect  of,  22. 
Subjection  to  a  stronger  will,  272. 
Summer,  112,  352,  355. 
Sunday,  mode  of  spending,  17 ;  breaking. 

18  ;  "42,  306. 
Sunday-schools,  42. 
Sundial,  a,  212. 
Sunlight,  207. 
Sunrise,  75,  315. 
Sunset,  112. 
Sunshine,  34,  36,  75  ;  resting  last  on  the 

churchyard,  87  ;  reflected,  97. 
Sunshine,  moral,  314. 
Surinam,  10. 


INDEX. 


457 


Swallows,  78. 

Swedenborgian,  a,  373. 

Swift.  Dean,  14,  275,  395. 

Swine,  14,  20,  187,  200,  250,  253,  297. 

Swinuerton,  Dr.  John,  118. 

Sylva  Sylvarum,  93. 

T ,  Mr.  (of  Newburyport),  414. 

Taconic,  400,  403,  408. 

Talisman,  a,  212. 

Tangle  wood  Tales,  444. 

luntalus,  286. 

Tarieton,  Bannastre,  44. 

Tavern-keeper,  a  passionate,  49,  2CO. 

Taverns,  City,  17  ;    19,   57:   Robinson's, 

GG  ;  Barker'8,  72  ;   80  ;  a  btory  of,  105 , 

158  ;    on  Hoosic    Mountain,  179  ;    at 

Shelburue  Falls,  184. 
Temperance  House,  125. 
Temple,  the,  272. 
Temple  Place,  377,  386. 
Temptation,  210. 
Territory,  disputed,  57,  68. 
Tertian  Ague,  273. 
Thankfulness,  357. 
Thanksgiving,  32,  206,  329. 
Thaxter,  Karl,  444. 
Thaxter,  Miss,  438. 
Thaxter,  Mr.,   412,  414,  415,   417,   418, 

419,  423,  424,   426,   428,  431,  434,  437, 

442,  443,  444. 

Thaxter,  Mrs.,  415,  423,  437,  444. 
Theology,  273. 

Thompson,  Mr.  (artist),  372,  373,  378. 
Thompson's  Island,  89. 
Thoreau,  Henry  D.,284,   318,   320,  321, 

323,  332.  333,  334.  338,  343,  347. 
Ticknor,  George.  371. 
Tieck,  Ludwig,  333,  338,  339,  342,  343. 
Tiger,  178. 
Tiles,  stories  of,  105. 
Titcomb,  B.  B.,  415,  417,  430. 
Toil,  213.    See  Work. 
Tombs,  37,  66,  81,  119,  132,  204. 
Tramp,  a,  178. 
Transcript,  The,  112. 
Translations,  27. 
Travellers,  202,  410,  426. 
Travelling  :  stages,  126  ;  by  water,  410. 
Treasure,  buried,  25,  416,  420. 
Trees,  guarding  a  treasure,  25  ;   a  staff 

taking  root,  25.    See  Forests,  Hedges, 

Juniper,  Willows,  Wood. 
Tremont   House,  115,  204. 
Trifles,  36,  211. 
Trinity  Church,  429. 
Trollope,  Anthony,  8. 
Truth,  22,  232. 
Tucke,  Rev.  Mr.,  418,  444. 
Tufts,  Mr..  435. 
Turtles,  258. 
Twilight,  354. 
Twining,  Mr.  (sheriff),  163. 
Tyler,  Judge,  124. 

Una's  Lion  363,  365,  367 
Uncle  John,  190. 


Underwitted  old  man,  an,  135. 

Union  Street,  Salem,  10,  32. 

Union  Village,  150. 

United  States  government,  42. 

Unreality,  109. 

Upham,  Judge,  418,  419. 

Ursula,  Lady,  277,  278. 

Uttoxeter,  205. 

Vagrants,  317. 

Van  Bureu,  Martin,  49. 

Vegetables,  57,  202,  257,  297    298.  351 

352,  353..  354,  355,  356. 
Venus,  121. 
Vermont,  193. 

Vice,  relations  to  virtue,  38. 
Vigwiggie,  336,  341. 
Virtue,  relations  to  vice,  38. 
Visitors,  284. 
Voltaire,  Franpois-Marie  Arouet,  333. 

W ,  Lieutenant  F. ,  108. 

Wachusett,  306. 

Waiting,  86. 

Walden  Pond,  303,  304,  358,  359. 

Waldoborough,  81. 

Wales,  Prince  of,  41,  44. 

Walker,  Clement,  30. 

Ward,  Sam  G.,  334. 

Washington,  445. 

Washington,  Mount.  134. 

Washington  Street,  387. 

Wasps,  231. 

Watched  by  a  stranger,  208. 

Water,  drinking,  30 ;  in  a  rock,  34. 

Waterloo,  Battle  of,  433. 

Waterstcn,  Mr.  (of  Philadelphia),  89. 

Wave,  the,  433,  434. 

Wax-figures,  122. 

Wayside,  the,  445. 

Weariness,  22. 

Weathercock,  397. 

Webster,  Daniel,  396. 

Weeds,  349,  353,  354. 

Weiss,  Mr.  (clergyman),  412,  415,  417. 

Westminster  Abbey,  40. 

Whales,  443. 

Whig  Party,  the,  41. 

Whipple,  Colonel,  278. 

Whipple,  Edwin,  P.,  391. 

Whipple,  Mrs.  Edwin  P.,  391. 

Whipple,  Mrs.,  123. 

Whirlwind,  98. 

Whist,  412. 

White  Island,  423,  424,  441. 

White  Mountains,  438. 

Wickedness,  38  ;  latent,  43. 

Widower,  a,  154. 

Wife,  a  missing,  72,  74. 

Wigcastle,  86. 

Wigton,  86. 

Williams  College,  134,  149,  158. 

WilliamBtown,  172. 

Williamstown  graduates,  162,  163. 

Williamstown  students,  163. 

Willows,  351. 

Willa,23. 


458 


INDEX. 


Windows,  ancient,  81. 

Winds  personified,  107. 

Windsor,  129. 

Winter,  22G,  329,  348,  398,  400. 

Winter  Island,  85. 

Witches'  viands,  397. 

Wives,  32 

Wolves,  30. 

Women,  80 ;  French,  53  ;  Irish,  53,  56, 
61,  62,  64  ;  118,  124  ;  a  mother,  204 ; 
a  seamstress,  259  ;  dress,  277  ;  a  va 
grant,  317  ;  at  the  theatre,  382  ;  a 
vision,  407  ;  bearded,  414. 

Wood.  392. 


Wood-choppers,  190. 

Worcester  Lunatic  Asylum,  206. 

Worcester,  Prideaux,  Bishop  of,  26. 

Words,  219,  226. 

Work,  230,  233,  234,  235,  236,  257,  297. 
See  Agriculture,  Gardens,  and  Liter 
ary  Work. 

Worldly  people,  29. 

Wrestler,  a,  160. 

Wronged  and  wrongers,  107. 

Yankees,  47,  57,  59,  410,  413,  416,  411 
Yeoman,  a,  303. 
Youth,  24,  28. 


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